ANYTHING 4 PROFIT (ANYTHING FOR PROFIT) (28 page)

              People were always speculating as to how many soldiers were in M.B.M. but those that said didn’t know, and those that knew didn’t say. At least not if they valued their lives. M.B.M. was a close nit, tightly ran criminal enterprise that had a chain of command more akin to the Army. But its financial structure was that of a Fortune 500 company. Those two elements combined made it an extremely ruthless and profitable organization. The man behind it all was none other than the feared gangster and nefarious mastermind, Zulu.

$$$

              Wearing a royal blue terrycloth robe, with an embroidered gold Z on the breast, Zulu sat and listened as Black told him his take of the events that had taken place over the past few weeks. Black was careful to leave out anything that would place him in a bad light.

   Zulu sat there listening and slowly deliberating while eating his breakfast. As Black explained who was responsible for his nephew’s death, his calm demeanor belied his murderous intentions. His manner unnerved Black.

              “So you’re telling me that this girl Meka, who used to be my nephew’s girlfriend, had Twan set up to get robbed by her brother and another nigga named Mike? How do you know this? Where did you get this information?”

              “Zulu, this what it is, man. I’m tellin’ you!” said Black emphatically. “That shit is all in the streets, bruh. I’m tellin’ you, dog! Meka was Twan’s main girl, and she was the last one wit’ him before that shit went down. Then all of a sudden, after he dead, her and them other niggas coppin’ shit like they won the fuckin’ lotto or somethin’! Now you got niggas sayin’ fuck you, and gettin’ they work from them fuckin’ wet backs. They tryna open up shop, thinkin’ shit a game ‘round here!”

              Zulu continued to eat his food while he absorbed the information he’d just been given. Finally, after he finished his meal and washed it down with a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice, he wiped his mouth with a linen napkin and tossed it on top of the remains of food on his plate. He looked Black fully in the eyes for the first time since he had arrived at his house. His glare was menacing and disturbing.

   Black was unsure of what to do or say, so he did nothing. His heart began to race with fear, and his forehead broke out in beads of sweat. He just sat there fidgeting in his seat. He liked it a lot better when Zulu wasn’t looking at him. A whole lot better. Quietly, with a ferocious intensity in his voice, Zulu said, “An example must be set. I want them to pay!”

CHAPTER 31

THE AFTERMATH

               “
I can’t believe you would do this shit to me,” screamed Nikki in the doctor’s office. Nikki rarely, if ever, used profanity but she was absolutely livid. And not to mention completely embarrassed. During a routine monthly check up, she just found out she had contracted gonorrhea. And she was certain that it came from Mike because she hadn’t been with anyone else sexually in months. 

     She started wildly swinging on Mike, who had come with her to see how their baby was doing. He grabbed her and placed his arms around her to prevent her from hitting him. She struggled to break free from his grasp but was unsuccessful.

              “Nikki, listen. I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry. It was before I was wit’ you though. I didn’t even know until I was locked up in the county!”

              “Then why didn’t you tell me?! Huh? Why didn’t you tell me?” Nikki asked, sobbing on Mike’s shoulder. “Why did I have to find out like this? You’re foul, Mike! I’m pregnant!”

   Nikki never had an STD in her life. She wasn’t even out there like that. At first she found it hard to believe the doctor’s findings because she hadn’t had any symptoms, but then she was informed that a woman could have an STD like gonorrhea for months and not know. But her doctor schooled her that it could turn into PID, or Pelvic Inflammatory Disease, which could be extremely painful and potentially dangerous, even more so for the baby she was carrying.

   Mike felt like shit. “I don’t even know why I ain’t tell you, Nikki. I was stupid. And I guess I was too ashamed.  But you gotta believe me when I tell you I ain’t never cheated on you.
Never.
”

               “Mike, I don’t know what to believe right now.” Nikki wanted to believe him. She really did, but there were so many thoughts running through her head she just didn’t know what to do.  How did she know he was telling the truth?

              “Nikki, listen. We can work through this, baby. I know you mad right now, but we can work through this. I want you to be my wife.” He released his hold on her and waited for a response.

    Nikki drew back and slapped Mike with all the force she could muster. The blow to his face resounded loudly in the quiet confines of the doctor’s office. Crying, she turned and ran out the door.

              Over the next few weeks, Mike did everything in his power to win Nikki back. Flowers, candy, cards, phone calls. Whatever it took to win her trust back, and get her to come home. He’d never felt like this. Mike was far from a sucker. He had taken lives without blinking an eye, but being without Nikki actually had him physically sick. It was a pain he’d never known, and prayed he would never know again. He couldn’t even eat.

    Nikki was miserable without him as well, but she stuck to her guns because she was more hurt by the irresponsible way he’d handled her. How could he neglect to tell her about having an STD, especially when she was pregnant with his child? How dare he? She was frightened by the lack of consideration Mike had for her. She would’ve never done that to him. The notion that she’d given him her heart, and got back so little in return just didn’t sit well with her. If he could do something that foul, he was capable of basically anything. He wasn’t the man she thought she knew. Coming to terms with that was pretty sobering for the love hangover she had for Mike. She kept his ass on ice for weeks.

    Mike was really going hard trying to redeem himself. He even bought Nikki a car, but she was totally unimpressed. Finally, he went for broke and put his words on paper, and then he mailed her the touching love letter he scribed. 

   Nikki was of a special breed. None of the jewelry and other materialistic shit he gave her moved her, but the humility of him writing that letter broke her.  So she relented and took Mike back.

   On the day of their reunion, they sat in Mike’s living room and talked for hours about their relationship, and where it was going. Mike let Nikki know again that he wanted her to be his wife, and carry his last name. But this time he pulled out a five carat diamond ring and made it official.

   Nikki beamed. She wanted to say yes so bad, but she gave him an ultimatum. “Mike… you know I love you, and I would love to be your wife. But only under one condition.”

   “What’s that?”

   “You’ve got to promise me that you’re through with the streets. I can’t take wondering if something is going to happen to you every time you go out, God forbid. Or fearing that the police are going to kick our door in at any given moment. I just can’t live like that, baby.”

   Mike thought seriously about what Nikki was asking of him. The only life he’d ever known had been a life of crime. And honestly, he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to make it in the legitimate world. He was an underworld type of cat. What would he do? He hadn’t even finished high school. How would he provide for his new family?

   Mike didn’t know how he would do it just yet, but if it meant getting to keep Nikki and be a part of his child’s life, then he was through. There would be no more thugging and street running. Just like that. Mike looked in her eyes and said it like he meant it. “Nikki, I love you. So okay, I’m out.”

   She smiled, and held out her hand. When Mike slid that rock on his future wife’s ring finger, his chest swelled with pride. He and Nikki were going to be a family. He really liked the sound of that.

$$$

   Mike couldn’t have picked a better time to chill. The streets of Greenville were on fire. Over the past months, there had been a host of homicides, kidnappings, home invasions, and an assortment of other violent crimes that remained unsolved. The news media had started to take notice of the rise in violent crimes, and were making it seem as if The Sheriff’s Department was either ill equipped to deal with the problem, or that they were just plain inadequate.

   The President of the local branch of the NAACP, Ralph Flemming, had a different view of what was taking place in Greenville. When he was a guest on “60 Minutes” he was quoted as saying, “Mostly all of the victims of these unsolved crimes are young Black men and women. I find it very hard to believe that, if these same crimes were taking place in a predominately White neighborhood, they would remain unsolved for very long. This just goes to show how much a Black life is valued in this state. I guess ol’ Jimmy Crow has just put on a suit and tie, and changed his name to James Crow.”

    Though Mr. Flemming had grown up in the Nicholtown section of Greenville, and cared about his people, he cared about his career even more. He was using all the media attention to advance his own goals, and launch a political career as a Democrat in a majority Republican state. That was just the type of publicity he needed to rally the people behind him and get some votes.

    In order to refute the implications that The Greenville County Sheriff’s Office was racist and indifferent to the crimes that remained unsolved, they issued this statement from a spokesperson:

 “The Greenville County Sheriff’s Office has never, under any circumstances taken race or nationality into consideration when investigating any crime. We are aware of the recent increase in crime, and have come up with a no-tolerance policy for any violators of the law. We have recently come up with an anti-crime task force, and they will be patrolling the streets on a more regular basis in an effort to curtail this recent rash of criminal activity. Also, we ask that anybody with any information that can help solve a crime dial 1-800-CrimeStoppers, or call the Sheriff’s office. You can remain anonymous. And if your information leads to a conviction, then you will be rewarded. Thank you.”

While Ralph Flemming and Greenville County were jockeying for position in the news and all the media attention, increased patrols were turning the city into a police state, making it damn near impossible for anybody involved in anything illicit to get money. So the ‘hood was starving…

$$$

    “I’m tellin’ you, Ant. I’m through, my nigga,” Mike said seriously. “I can’t afford to keep wildin’ like we been doin’, dog. All the shit we done did. All the shit we done got away wit’, and we ain’t dead, or lookin’ at no serious time? I mean, I got them lil’ charges I gotta deal wit’, but a good hungry lawyer can eat that fuckin’ case like they one a them starvin’ Africans on them commercials. The ones wit’ the flies all over their faces, and shit!”

              “You through?! Through?!” asked Ant incredulously. “Nigga, what the fuck you been smokin’ on? Fuck is you talkin’ ‘bout?”

              “I’m talkin’ ‘bout gettin’ out the game, nigga. I’m talkin’ ‘bout havin’ a baby on the way that I wanna be around to be a father to. What nobody ever was to me. A
father.
I’m talkin’ ‘bout there’s gotta be more to life than the shit we doin’! That’s what the fuck I’m talkin’ ‘bout.”

              Ant scoffed, “Nigga, you on a trip wit’ no map! Muh’fucka, the only thing more to this life is gettin’ mo’ money, gettin’ mo’ pussy, and getting mo’ higher! After that, yo’ ass die! Ain’t no mo’ to this life shit than that! Heaven ain’t in no fuckin’ sky! That shit right here on Earth, my nigga! Look at this money, nigga!”

    Ant pulled out two large stacks of cash and flashed it at Mike. “You see this here? This here get you the flyest bitches, the flyest whips, and the freshest clothes to wear… So we in heaven right now, nigga!”

   Ant laughed, and pulled out his personal coke stash. He rolled up a hundred dollar bill, and stuck it straight in the bag and took a generous snort. He loved indulging in his new habit. He was starting to live for it. He didn’t even smoke anymore. He used to smoke copious amounts of exotic weed to get him high, but he had graduated to just fucking with that cocaine heavy. It was a more intense, surreal feeling. When he was high off it, he felt like he couldn’t be touched.