Thirsty 2 (14 page)

It was the day after him and Justice had gone to the movies when Carlos was driving down North Davidson heading toward downtown, he saw a Charlotte-Mecklenburg police car get behind him. He looked at the speedometer to make sure he wasn’t speeding. In doing so, he saw the picture of his deceased lieutenant, Ali’s daughter on his dash, smiling with her missing tooth and her big pigtails. Damn, he missed his brother from another mother. He made a mental note to stop by and check on his goddaughter soon. He heard his phone beeping with a ringtone he designated for business. As he reached for it, he accidentally dropped it between the seats. He didn’t retrieve it since the police were behind him.

After getting into the downtown area, the patrol car turned off on 5
^th
Street and he reached beneath the seat for his cell, swerving a little before finally feeling it. He picked it up and saw the missed call was from Tan. Before he could return the call, he received a text from her with a coded message letting him know that she wanted to meet with him immediately. Carlos sucked his teeth, took a deep breath, and decided he would wait a few minutes until he was away from the downtown area before he responded. The last thing he needed was to see another Charlotte-Mecklenburg police car and be pulled over for texting while driving.

***

Carlos chose to meet Tan at Freedom Park in East Charlotte. Even though Carlos had lived in Charlotte all his life, he was still in awe at how Charlotte was so visibly divided by class. West Boulevard, his old stomping ground was all ‘hood’. As soon as West Boulevard turned into East Boulevard, only separated by one intersection, you ventured into Charlotte’s upper middle-class. Many of the houses were Renaissance style surrounded by large trees that kept the neighborhood shaded. Carlos took in the scene as he drove through the Dilworth neighborhood headed to the park.

Ten minutes later Carlos entered the park near the tennis courts, parked and walked down to an empty bench. The weather was a little warm this day and people were definitely taking advantage of the sunshine. He had been seated for only a few short minutes before he saw Tan approaching. As usual, she looked stunning, dressed in an off-white sleeveless sundress and casual pumps. Tan walked as if she owned the entire park. Before she could even sit down Carlos sensed animosity. Even though he could not see her cold eyes behind the tint on her Gucci sunglasses, he knew she was glaring at him.

“When were you gonna tell me that bitch is in town?” Tan spewed with much venom.  She didn’t even give him a chance to answer the question. “You know how I feel about the bitch and I feel like you tryin’ me.”

“Fuck you talkin’ ‘bout? Ain’t nobody tryin’ your crazy ass.” Through gritted teeth, Carlos boldly gave her back as much venom as she had spewed. “That girl ain’t thinkin’ about yo’ paranoid ass.” His brows were knitted in anger. He sarcastically added, “Lemme find out ole girl got yo’ gangsta ass shook.” He was toying with her emotions as he sat all the way back, arms stretched out along the back of the bench. “It’s been two years since that shit went down. If she wanted to move on you, I think she would’ve done it by now.” He was trying to see where her head was at.

Tan’s head whipped so hard in his direction that her sunglasses almost flew off. “Yeah, I see you got jokes. You know I’on fear shit.” Her face was turning red.

She looked at him with disdain. “Do I have to question what team you on?”

“Nah, gangsta. You know you ain’t gotta question that.” He looked at her with seriousness and added, “you know what team I roll wit’. If y’all still beefin’ you know I got you.”  Carlos stood up as he looked around to see whether some of her “friends” were in the vicinity. He knew not to put it past this bitch to have him murked right there in the park full of kids. “If I hear anything, I’ll get at you.”

She nodded, seemingly halfway appeased. With that said, he turned his back and walked to his Tahoe. He didn’t know if Tan actually believed him or not, because she showed no telling expression. If she did not believe him, he knew he would have a problem on his hands. Disloyalty meant instant death with the Mendozas. He decided he would have to tread on thin ice with this matter.

***

After leaving Tan, Carlos went to his barbershop. When he got to the back he saw Lil’ Joe sitting in War’s chair getting a shape up. He was dressed in his street clothes--oversized T-shirt, jeans, and black low-cut Timbs. He looked like the old Joe Carlos was used to seeing.

“Aye ‘Los, lemme holla at you for a minute when I finish getting this shape up.”

Carlos just nodded his head. Last thing he wanted was to deal with some bullshit. He figured Joe had probably heard some more shit about him and Preme slumping Dave. Fucking with Tan earlier and now about to deal with Joe’s shit had him contemplating whether it was really time for him to get out of the game and just focus on going legit. BobCutz was making a profit, and that was without the drug money. He had opportunities to expand and open another location in the Charlotte area and he was entertaining the thought of some of War’s ex-classmates that wanted to franchise. Or he could pull a Justice and open a strip club, but Charlotte already had enough of those and he didn’t want to be dealing with random hoes day in and day out.

Carlos walked into his office and took a seat behind his desk. He took out his Dell laptop and pulled up an episode of
The Wire
from iTunes. Watching the show reminded him of his current situation and he knew he had a choice to make. He felt like Stringer Bell when he was faced with that life-changing decision of whether or not to remain loyal to his fam’. While the show played in the background, he picked up the phone and called Justice.

“Carlos?”

Hearing her voice made him smile. “Yeah, it’s me. What’s good, ma?”

“I told you my name ain’t ma . . . but I’m glad you called. I was just tellin’ Sapphire how much fun it was talkin’ and trippin’ with you. It’s been a long time.”

Carlos imagined Justice on the other end of the phone smiling that beautiful smile. “I wish I was over there with you.”

“Yeah right,” Justice replied like she used to when he used to try and sweet talk her. “You probably got some bitch with you right now while you’re tryna sweet talk me.”

“Trust me, if some bitch was wit’ me, I wouldn’t be on the phone with you.” Carlos laughed as he relaxed in the chair. He saw Luther walking past his office, headed to the break room. “Look, I just wanted to let you know to be careful.”

“Lemme guess . . . yo’ Mexican bitch asked about me, huh?” Justice always called Tan Mexican even though she knew she was Dominican. It was a form of disrespecting her nationality.

“Just be careful.”

Justice laughed sarcastically. “I wish yo’ bitch
would
try me.”

“Why you keep sayin’
my
bi—” Before he could finish his question, Justice hung up.When he looked up, he saw Lil’ Joe getting ready to knock on the door. Carlos didn’t say anything, but waved his hand to motion Lil’ Joe to come inside. Lil’ Joe entered and shut the door behind him.

“What it do, bruh?” Carlos said as he stood, looking up at the taller man. He quickly scanned him to see if Lil’ Joe had any weapons and if he needed to stay close to his desk where his pistol was hidden.

“I’mma get to the point. I’m ready to get back down,” Lil’ Joe stated as he walked to the desk. “Don’t get it twisted, I love working on cars and I like having my own garage and shit, but it ain’t the same since I been away from the game. It’s like a nigga just workin’ to pay bills and shit.”

Carlos thought about Lil’ Joe’s situation for a second. Lil’ Joe having his own legit business would come in handy should he need him. And Lil’ Joe did know how to run a trap. A part of Carlos wished things had not gone down with Dave the way they had because he missed the David and Goliath team that kept the Westside of Charlotte from becoming a headache. Then again, with Preme limping and Face in a wheelchair and Ali gone, he needed a young gunner. Truth be told, Lil’ Joe was nowhere near as ruthless as Preme or Face with the ratchets, but Carlos looked at the young man and saw that he was hungry.

“You finally gettin’ tired of eatin’crumbs, and ready for some real bread again, huh?” Carlos asked, not sure of Lil’ Joe’s intentions.

“No doubt, a nigga miss that shit.” Lil’ Joe said as he reached out for a pound.

 Carlos hesitated for a minute because he knew that pound would seal the deal. He thought maybe Joe was trying to get close enough to find out the truth about his man, Dave. He also knew he had to make Lil’ Joe show him he was serious about getting put back on the team. He finally reached out and pounded his once protégé’s outreached fist. Carlos dismissed him and told him he would be in touch shortly.

Once Lil’ Joe left the office, Carlos sat at the computer and pulled up some pictures he and Justice had taken a couple of years ago at various clubs and on dates at spots like Crave and Kabuto’s. He even found a few intimate pictures of the two of them being mischievous with the camera before, during, and after sex. After all that had gone down, he had never gotten rid of these mementos.

Damn I miss her,
he thought as his dick began to stiffen at a picture of her silhouette on top of the bed they once shared. He thought about his betrayal to Tan by telling Justice that she was looking for her. He also thought about the money he would lose and the inevitable war he would have to endure with the Mendoza family if he betrayed Tan and didn’t assist her in harming Justice. Tan hadn’t asked for his help yet, but he knew it was indeed coming. He sat back in his chair and huffed. “Damn, a rock and a fuckin’ hard spot. What da hell is a nigga to do?”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Chris looked at all of the construction taking place on North Tryon near the new Wal-Mart. She glanced over at Red and noticed that he had become frustrated. He hated traffic just as much as she did and the drivers in these slow moving cars were not doing anything but being nosey and wasting valuable time. As she looked at Red on the passenger side, she knew he was up to something, but she couldn’t figure out what it was just yet.

“How the hand feel?” Chris asked out of concern. Red looked at her, sucked his teeth and exhaled. She wanted to smack Red because she hated that shit and he knew it, but she knew his anger was his way of expressing that his hand was still sore.

Before Red and Chris left Atlanta, they had a change of plans because they had gotten word that some clown ass nigga from Patterson, New Jersey was in town flaunting his street wealth. It was one thing for a nigga to come to the ATL and get quiet money, but when you came and flaunted that shit in a nigga’s face, it was an insult. To put the icing on the cake, the nigga didn’t even like niggas from down south. He even talked mad shit about how green and how soft they were. This infuriated Red. This nigga had moved himself to the top of Red’s hit list and he decided to touch that nigga before they hit the road. Initially, Chris had objected. She wanted to get to Charlotte, handle their business, and get the hell back to Atlanta because she had heard the police in the Queen City didn’t fuck around.

“We gonna touch this nigga and hop straight on 85. In and out, babe,” Red had said, trying to convince Chris.

Satisfied that they would be in and out in a matter of minutes, Chris finally agreed.

They donned ski masks and promptly kicked the back door in and stormed the nigga’s trap house like the SWAT team. He was not there, but two of his flunkies were. Once Red demanded the money and dope, they promptly told the two robbers to kiss their asses.

Red hauled off and smashed the older of the two in the jaw with a right hook. As soon as his fist made contact with the man’s face Red felt the bone in his hand crack. Seeing the older man get his jaw broken, the younger guy led Chris to a small stash of cocaine and seven stacks. Holding his throbbing hand Red announced, “Y’all niggas lucky we ain’t got time to tear this muthafucka up.” He looked down at the man on the floor holding his jaw. “Nigga, think about me when you sippin’ soup for the next few weeks, bitch!”

Red and Chris exited the same way they entered, swiftly out the back door. They were surprised they didn’t hear any gunshots as they ran toward their getaway car. They hadn’t wasted time searching the house for guns and were certain the two guys had them stashed close by. They dropped off the six ounces to Chris’s cousin before they hit the highway.

“We should’ve stayed on I-85 like the GPS said instead of driving all the way down here like this. This is outta da way,” Chris complained.

“I need to stop by one of J.T.’s old spots. I gotta check on something.”

Chris rolled her eyes. “Nigga, you couldda did this shit on your own time. This a fuckin’ waste of time. We here to catch a body or two and that’s it,” Chris stated as casually as if she were talking about going shopping. She was frustrated, hungry, and a little tired from the three-hour drive from Atlanta. In addition, she was still psyched about the robbery of that stash house they had committed hours earlier. Red’s unnecessary stops had her ready to reach across the seat and slap the shit out of him.

“Yo, this some important shit. I gotta stop by there to see if something’s still there. It was some ratchets and shit. I got locked up before I could go get that shit. I couldn’t come back when I got out because I know them crackas was watchin’ a nigga.”

“Whatever nigga! What make you think that shit still there? It’s been two fuckin’ years.” Chris was agitated with Red and his miscellaneous antics. Her mind was made up. She was not stopping. She looked down at the GPS and asked, “Where you say Kim live again?”

“In them apartments near the Verizon Amphitheatre—you can’t miss ‘em.” He didn’t argue.

Chris continued to drive until she reached the intersection of North Tryon and Pavilion Boulevard where she turned right. And just as Red said, she noticed the apartments about a block down the street from the amphitheatre. Chris turned into the gated complex and went to the intercom where she searched for Kim Turner’s name. When she called the number to let Kim know that they were present, Kim told them which gate to go in and how to find her apartment. Chris followed the directions and soon Red and Chris were walking up three flights of stairs to Kim’s apartment.