Whispers in the Night (31 page)

'Dre threw open the window and yelled down to the street: “What!!”

The driver's-side door opened in a cloud of reefer smoke. Redbone looked up to 'Dre's window, his hands cupped at his ears.

“What! What!”
he mimicked. “It's
Sunday,
nigga, that's
what.
Get you ass up and get down here. We got bid'ness.”

“Here, Young.” Redbone grinned and passed 'Dre a forty-ounce of Old English 800. “Get ya head right for the ride.”

'Dre cracked the bottle and drank deep as the car pulled away from the curb. He'd showered and changed in record time, but was still out of sorts. He needed this bracer, before he started asking the questions that rattled in his head like stones.

“Watch you don' puke again. We run by Popeye's on the way in, get a feed on.”

“Nah, I'm good,” 'Dre began. “It
can't
be Sunday. . . .”

“Sure you right.” Redbone shook his head. “You ain't gettin' it, yo. Shorty dropped a little somethin' in your drink, knocked you outta the game. Then while me an' Lil' B were carryin' your ass back to the ride, she took off with Tonk and that big mofo'.”

“Somebody
dosed
me?” 'Dre was angry and confused, trying to remember. “Some
bitch
poisoned me?”

“Nah, man. It weren't all that. Half a roofie. Tonk said she was tryin' to calm your ass down.” Redbone paused, lit a Newport. “It was the drink and blow that got you to heavin'. But don' worry none. We gonna get some payback. Wait'll we get down there an' let Tonk tell it.”

The two of them drove down Georgia Avenue in silence, as Young 'Dre drank and tried to piece everything together in his mind. It was hopeless; the last thing he could remember was Lil' B and some girl . . .

And nothing. It was as if his memory had been wiped clean.

“Damn, 'Bone. I can't remember shit.”

“Fuggit, yo. You got tore up, you puked, we brought your ass home. End of story.”

“But I can't remember . . . something happened. That big nigga . . .”

“I said, don' sweat it. Tonk is on this shit. We gonna get ours. Just be cool.”

The malt liquor was having the desired affect; Dre sipped, bobbed his head to the music, and surveyed the brownstones and storefronts along Georgia Avenue as they went past Walter Reed, past Howard University, and moved deeper into the city. At Thirteenth Street and Florida Avenue NW, the Celica slowed and Redbone looked around for a parking space. Finding none, he continued down Thirteenth to W Street, turned left, and pulled over in front of some new town houses.

“We here. Kill that bumper an' we out,” Redbone said simply. 'Dre complied, as always, deferring to the older boy. The two of them clambered out of the car and crossed back over W Street, then headed up Thirteenth Street half a block before turning into a service alley.

The sight of the alley made 'Dre nervous. Something about an alley . . . “Yo, ‘Bone. Th' fuck we goin'?”

“Almost there, Young. Let Tonk tell it. It's his call.”

They moved up the alley until they came to the back of an abandoned row house; it seemed someone had attempted reconstruction and repairs, then tired of it. The backyard was fenced off with sagging chain-link and razor wire; there were stacks of soggy Sheetrock and torn tarps and piles of garbage everywhere. Redbone slipped through a hole in the fence, gestured for 'Dre to follow. They climbed up into the house, as there were no stairs.

It was getting dark.

As the two of them picked their way through the accumulated trash and moved to the front of the house, there was the creak of wood from the floor above. A harsh whisper queried from the darkness . . .

“Yo' baby mama,” Redbone answered gruffly. “Where my check at?”

“Fuck you, ‘Bone,” Tonk snapped back. “You got 'Dre wit' you?”

“Yeah. So put your shit away, we comin' up.”

Redbone and 'Dre climbed the stairs noisily, and emerged on the second floor. The upstairs area was remarkably clean. All the walls had been knocked down, leaving only the bare support beams in a single, large room. The windows had been boarded up, but the wide cracks between the boards showed dusk outside. Tonk and Lil' B were sitting on a worn wooden bench, passing a bottle of wine back and forth, while Tonk peered through the cracks with a small pair of binoculars. There were two pistols lying on the floor at their feet.

“Tell everybody, why don'cha?” Lil' B said sharply. “ 'Dre, you back with us?”

“I'm a'ight,” 'Dre said. “So, whassup, Tonk? Redbone said you'd gimme the four one one.”

“Nothin' to tell, nigga.” Tonk waved the boy forward, handed him the binoculars, and pointed to a crack in the boards. “'Cept in a couple hours, we gonna be tearin' up that place over yonder. Upstairs, window on the left.”

'Dre raised the field glasses to his eyes, followed Tonk's directions. He saw nothing until his eyes adjusted to the interior shadows in the room across the street. Then he saw her.

Skin the color of honey and cream. Jet-black hair. A lush, ripe body barely covered by the thinnest of white negligees.

'Dre felt a stirring between his legs. More than a stirring. His mouth was dry.

“So, after y'all cleared out, after the bitch dosed you an' shit, she an' that big fuck, Julian, brought me back here for fun an' games. Had a party going on up in there, more freaks an' crazies than I seen anywhere,
ever,
” Tonk whispered, as the boy watched her move around the room. Back and forth, in front of the window. “Weird, fucked-up shit. They got a dungeon in the basement, yo. Chains an' shit all on the walls. Mofo's whippin' bitches, burnin' them with hot wax an' cigarettes, piercin' 'em, makin' 'em bleed. She take me into a changin' room, an' while she's puttin' on some kinda robe, I'm s'pose to strip down an' squeeze into this leather jock with studs an' shit. Then she gimme a leash, clip it to her collar. Tells me tonight, she my slave an' do as I please.”

Across the street, the woman had slipped out of the negligee and was standing naked at the window, a red gown folded over her arm. She turned, and a man came into view. He was white, of medium build and fully dressed. As 'Dre watched, he shrugged into a black overcoat. The man moved to kiss her; smiling, she turned her face away.

“She got . . .” 'Dre's voice cracked; he swallowed and passed the glasses back to Tonk. “She got somebody up there with her. Not the big one, somebody else.”

“He ain't gonna be there long. She got mofo's comin' and goin', day an' night. And that big one, fuck him. He's just her driver. Hired help. I better not see his ass—”

“She a pro, Young,” Lil' B broke in. Tonk's antipathy was plain. B passed his partner the bottle and nodded at Redbone, who sat down at the top of the stairs and lit a joint. “Some kinda SNM ho—”

“S
and
M. Sado-Masochism.” Redbone coughed smoke. “Damn, B. You needs to read somethin' 'sides
GQ
sometime. She a dominatrix. Niggas pay her to kick they ass, piss on 'em. All that freaky, evil shit.”

'Dre stepped away from the boarded-up window. He looked around the darkened room at each boy in turn. Tonk was edgy and eager, ready to make a move. Lil' B seemed calm, but that was probably the wine; B loved his mellow grape. Redbone was standing aside, distant, smiling like he knew more than he was saying.

“So what? We gonna take turns lampin' an' jerkin' it?”

All three of them laughed aloud at that. 'Dre felt like he'd missed something, but he'd felt like that since he'd wakened to the sound of Redbone's horn.

“Didn't let me finish, yo. Y'see, we been in an' outta here Saturday, Saturday night, Sunday morning. Watchin'
her.
” Tonk sneered angrily, walked over, and snatched the joint from Redbone. He drew deep, held the smoke, relaxed. “Yeah. So I'm down in the basement, but I ain't about puttin' on no sex show, y'feel me? Ain't no fuck puppet for a room full a' freaks. If I want the ass, I
take
the ass. So I tell the bitch to get busy. If they want a show, they can watch her eat every pussy in the place. An' while they all standin' around watchin', I ducked out, had a quick look around upstairs. Bitch had cake up in there, Young. Gold. Silver. Paintin's an' shit. Now, me, I couldn't jack no goods, not wearin' nothin' but a leather jock an' a smile. So I eased back down to the changing room, an' took a peek in her little black purse. . . .”

Tonk reached into his pocket and pulled out a metal ring. Attached to it were three keys, and a tiny gold phallus.

“Are those . . .” 'Dre stopped short, his head spinning.

“Gate. Front door, back door. Tried 'em all 'fore I left up outta there.”

“Hello!”
Lil' B burst out, slapping his hands together for emphasis. 'Dre jumped at the sound, much to the other boy's amusement.

“Now y'feel me, Young.” Tonk turned his eyes toward the house across the street, and it seemed he peered through the very walls. “Now we wait.”

 

 

Moonlight poured through the holes on the roof. In the distance, the squeal of tires, the howl of a police siren.

“Tha'sit,” Tonk said. “Let's roll.”

Redbone was snoring softly, his back in the corner, his Eddie Bauer jacket zipped up past his chin. 'Dre and Lil' B were playing out a silent game of blackjack, a buck a hand. 'Dre was seven dollars down, after being up twenty. There were four empty bottles of wine and two dozen Newport butts scattered over the floor.

“C'mon, get that chronic nigga up. Lights out over there.” Tonk stood and shook the circulation back into his legs. “Time to do this.”

'Dre collected the cards as Lil' B woke Redbone with a light slap on the head. The four of them stretched in silence, not looking at each other.

“A'ight, then. She just turn out all the lights upstairs—” Tonk began.

“By twos. Me an' Tonk. 'Bone an' 'Dre,” Lil' B interrupted. “We go first. Y'all count to fifty, then follow. Meet up at the front door. If there's anybody on the street, any cars,
anything
, circle round the block an' come back. Niggas round here don' see or hear shit. Let's don' give 'em a reason.”

“Yeah. Like that. 'Cept I get first crack at the bitch. Twenty minutes, and then you niggas can have her. What's left of her,” Tonk amended. He tucked one pistol under his sweatshirt, held out the other. “'Bone, you hold this strap. We out.”

'Dre and Redbone moved silently down W Street, past the carryout where they'd bought the wine and playing cards, and turned left, onto Twelfth Place. The street was only one block long, terminating at Florida Avenue, just below Cardozo High School. Row houses, identical save for their exterior paint, lined both sides. There were bars on every downstairs window, and gates on every door.

At the far end of the street, almost to Florida Avenue, Tonk and Lil' B stood for a moment, then turned back, moving slowly so they would reach the front door at once with Redbone and 'Dre. The plan worked to perfection. They were all of them through the gate and door, Tonk, then Lil' B and 'Dre, moving across the threshold, in moments.

But not Redbone. He stopped short, looked down, and stepped back from the door. His eyes were wide.

“Nah, man,”
he whispered, pointing to the floor.
“Shit ain't right.”

The moonlight spilled onto the hallway floor, illuminating a perfect square of white tile with a large red circle at its center. At each corner of the square was a decorative flourish, a trompe l'oeil, painted so it seemed each design was floating above the floor.

“Don' you punk out, nigga,”
Tonk rasped, his eyes hard.
“You in this!”

“No! That's a blood circle! It ain't right!”
the boy answered, shaking his head frantically, remembering something his mother had told him long ago. He shoved the pistol into Lil' B's hand.
“I'll be at the car. I'll wait . . .”

Lil' B pushed Tonk and Young 'Dre deeper into the darkness of the house, and quietly closed the door with Redbone outside. As Tonk bent down and removed his shoes, Lil' B looked at 'Dre, pointed to the door, and slowly mouthed the words “punk-ass bitch.”

'Dre was shaking, his guts rumbling in protest. He should have eaten. He should have bounced out with 'Bone. He should never have come here, gotten caught up in this ill-starred sortie. But even as his eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, and Tonk moved silently up the carpeted stairs, he knew it was too late.

Lil' B shifted the pistol to his left hand, reached into his jacket, and pulled out a bundle of pillowcases. He tossed one to 'Dre, who was standing nervously at the bottom of the stairs. The house wasn't big; there was the living room in the front, with two windows facing the street outside, then a single step up into a small dining area that held a large mahogany table set with several chairs. Farther back was a large kitchen, with two doors; one led out to the backyard, the other, set beneath the stairs that Tonk had climbed to the second story, led to the basement.

The living room was a hodgepodge of overstuffed single chairs and serving tables on a wine-colored Persian rug; it appeared to be a reading room, and was dominated by a large bookcase that ran from floor to ceiling, from front windows to dining room. The shelves were crowded with curios, figurines, and books of every size, from tiny pamphlets to great, oversized volumes. On one shelf, in the center of the bookcase, was a display of bottles with several types of liquor.