Saiquan couldn’t hold back any longer, and he chucked up the slice of pepperoni pizza he’d had before he went to visit D at the hospital.
‘Fuck you doin’?’ Marcus said, looking over.
Saiquan continued gagging; his throat burned, but nothing else came up.
‘See? You lucky you got me here, yo. A little blood get you sick, how you gonna shoot a man?’
As Saiquan tried to get the sick taste out of his mouth, Marcus continued washing up at the sink.
‘Yo, so what you wanna do now?’ Marcus said. ‘You gotta go home to yo’ dawg or you wanna go out ho-in’?’
With his throat still burning, Saiquan said, ‘We gotta get the fuck outta here.’
‘Wait, I still gotta get blood out my coat.’
‘Now, nigga. People mighta heard them shots. Cops could be here any second.’
‘Yeah? And how ‘bout nobody heard the shots and I walk outta here with blood all over me? Some old lady sees me, calls nineone-one, or I gotta pop her so she don’t. Then somebody see me pop the old lady and we get caught for that shit.’
‘Why you gotta shoot him?’ Saiquan said. ‘Why you gotta do that shit?’
‘Fuck you talkin’ about? That’s what we came here for.’
‘But he sounded like he was talkin’ the truth, man. Maybe D was jackin’ supply.’
‘Naw, J was just talkin’ shit, tryin’ to save his black ass; that’s all he was doin’.’
‘How you know that? You don’t know nothin’.’
‘D told you at the hospital. He said it was over J’s ho, right?’
‘Maybe D was lyin’.’
‘You told me he wasn’t lyin’.’
‘Couple weeks go, I saw D out on Cozine,’ Saiquan said. ‘Same corner. Maybe J was tellin’ the truth and D was playin’ me like a punk.’
‘Yeah, well, maybe you shoulda thought of all this smart-ass, who-lyin’-to-who shit ‘fore you called me to come down here and pop a nigga in my own crew. If this shit’s fucked-up,
you
the one got it that way, not me.’
Sick of looking at Marcus’s face, Saiquan turned and took a few steps back toward the living room. He heard a sound coming from the staircase; then he looked over and saw J’s girl, Ramona, trying to sneak down the stairs.
‘Yo!’ Saiquan shouted.
Ramona screamed and ran back up. Marcus came past Saiquan with his piece out and ran after her.
‘The fuck you doin’?!’ Saiquan yelled. ‘Yo, get back here!’
Now, upstairs, Ramona was yelling like crazy. There were a lot of bangs, things getting knocked over. Ramona was shouting, ‘Stop it! No! No! No! Get off!’ and Saiquan thought,
Shit, don’t be hittin’ it now, yo. Don’t be doin’ that wild shit now.
‘Marcus, yo, get the fuck down here!’ Saiquan yelled. Saiquan stood there in the kitchen, listening to more screaming and banging upstairs. He wanted to run, but Marcus had the car keys.
‘Marcus!’
Ramona was yelling, ‘Stop it! No! Stop!’ and Saiquan wondered what the hell he was thinking, bringing crackhead Marcus in on this shit.
Then Marcus started screaming in pain, making sounds like Jermaine did when Marcus was fucking him up.
And then Saiquan heard a shot. ‘Marcus, the fuck you doin’? Get yo’ ass the fuck down here! Marcus? Yo, Marcus!’
There was another shot.
‘Marcus! Fuck you, man! What the fuck you doin’?’
The house was quiet. Saiquan couldn’t hear anything, and he didn’t know what the fuck happened. He didn’t know if Marcus got shot, if Ramona got shot, or if they both got shot.
‘Marcus!’ Saiquan called upstairs. ‘Marcus!’
Saiquan heard a creak above him - somebody was coming downstairs. He thought,
Shit, it’s Ramona.
Saiquan took out his Glock and started shooting. He got two shots off, maybe three, and then heard Marcus screaming, ‘Yo, the fuck you doin’, man? The fuck you doin’?’
Marcus waited to make sure Saiquan had stopped, and then he came down the stairs, holding his right hand over his right eye.
‘What happened?’ Saiquan asked.
‘Ho jumped out the window,’ Marcus said. ‘Landed on her feet like motherfiickin’ Catwoman. C’mon.’
Saiquan followed Marcus through the house, past Jermaine’s fucked-up body, outside. Marcus went around the house toward the driveway. A few people were on their porches or on the sidewalk, trying to see what was going on. One brother across the street was looking right at Saiquan, and Saiquan knew the guy could ID him, no problem. Saiquan pulled out his Glock and fired a shot in the guy’s direction - not trying to hit him, just trying to scare his ass. The bullet came a lot closer to the guy than Saiquan wanted it to - smashing a window about five feet away from the dude. But at least the shot did what it was supposed to do, because the guy ran back into his house.
Marcus came back from the driveway and said, ‘Bitch got away.’
‘We gotta get outta here, man,’ Saiquan said.
‘Wait, maybe she—’ ‘Now, yo.’ Saiquan grabbed Marcus and pulled him toward the BMW.
‘Get the fuck off my jacket, man,’ Marcus said. ‘Better not be stretching that shit out.’
When they got to the car, Saiquan heard cops’ sirens; they sounded far away, but they were getting louder.
Marcus was checking out his jacket, making sure there was no damage.
‘Drive, nigga,’ Saiquan said.
Marcus sped away.
‘Chill, yo,’ Saiquan said. ‘Just go slow and shit, like we be mindin’ our own.’
‘Naw,’ Marcus said. ‘First we gotta get the fuck outta here; then we go slow.’
Marcus made a sharp right onto One Hundred Eighth, turning so fast, the car almost spun out and hit a parked Jeep.
‘Chill!’ Saiquan shouted. ‘Chill that shit! Chill!’
Marcus kept on the gas for a few more blocks and didn’t slow till they got onto Avenue M.
‘There,’ Marcus said. ‘Now we safe.’
‘Safe?’ Saiquan said. ‘The fuck you talkin’ about? The bitch seen both of us.’
‘She ain’t gonna tell nobody.’
‘Why not?’ ‘
‘Cause she wanna stay alive, that’s why.’
A cop car sped past, probably heading toward Jermaine’s. Saiquan looked at Marcus, noticing the scratches, still bleeding, on his right cheek, going right up to his eyes.
‘So what the fuck happened up there, man?’ Saiquan asked.
‘Nothin’,’ Marcus said. ‘I was just trying to pin the bitch down, tryin’ to poke her, know what I’m sayin’, but she was fightin’ me hard and shit. Then I finally get her down, get her panties off and shit, when the bitch grabs my hand and bites it.’
Marcus showed Saiquan his right hand, with the teeth marks and the blood.
‘Damn,’ Saiquan said.
‘Shoulda popped her right then,’ Marcus said. ‘But bitch gets loose and comes at me with these big-ass nails. Shits was gold and shit, like two inches long, and motherfuckas was sharp too. Bitch scratched me in the face, man. Then I look up and she’s jumpin’ out the window. I shot at her but fuckin’ missed. I look out the window and she starts runnin’ up the driveway. I shot again but she was gone.’
‘So how you know she ain’t goin’ to the cops now?’
‘ ‘Cause she ain’t.’
‘How you know?’
‘Just shut the fuck up, man.’
Saiquan turned away, shaking his head.
They cut over to Seaview Avenue. Marcus pulled into a parking lot next to a Shell station.
‘The fuck you doin’?’ Saiquan asked.
Marcus parked near a red Saturn. ‘Gotta switch rides, man.’
Marcus went to the trunk of the BMW and took out a tire jack. Then he went up to the Saturn and smashed open the driverside window. The alarm went off, and Marcus leaned inside the car and started hot-wiring the shit.
Getting a new ride might help them get home safe, but Saiquan knew they were still fucked. Ramona saw both of them, and people on the street could probably ID them too. It was only a matter of time before the cops tracked their asses down. Or, if the cops didn’t, Crips niggas would; that was for damn sure.
The Saturn’s engine caught. Marcus gave Saiquan the thumbsup sign and then got busy wiping away all the broken glass.
Jake opened his eyes, bummed out to see Christina in bed next to him and not Penelope Cruz. Jake had been having an intense dream where he and Penelope - whom he’d partied with last month at Light in Vegas - were on a beach, screwing on a lounge chair. Penelope was loud and wild, digging her nails into his back, screaming, ‘Harder, Jake! Harder!’ with that hot Spanish accent.
Jake closed his eyes, trying to get back into the dream, but he couldn’t fall back asleep. Pissed off, he looked at Christina again. She was good-looking, yeah, but she just wasn’t Jake Thomas wife material. Her face was too plain-looking, not exotic enough, but the biggest problem was her ass. It looked even bigger naked than in jeans, and it wasn’t one of those muscular, dancer asses either; there was actual fat on it. Her ass was such a turnoff that, at one point last night, while they were doing it from behind, Jake had started losing his hard-on. T o keep himself going, he imagined that Christina was Kelly, the Hooters waitress from Philly. The fantasy worked for a while, because he had his eyes closed, but when he opened his eyes and saw Christina it was a major buzz kill.
Afterward, as Christina cuddled next to him, Jake wanted to take off, and he wondered if he was making a big mistake with all this marriage bullshit after all.
Then he reminded himself that he had to at least make the wedding announcement. For all he knew, the Marianna Fernandez story was going to break in the morning’s papers, and he needed the wedding story to overshadow it, but that didn’t mean he had to get married. Maybe, after a few months, the Fernandez story would fade and he and Christina could quietly split. Or maybe he’d have to marry Christina, but, if after a year or two the Fernandez story cooled, they could get divorced. If he had to get married, Jake was going to make sure he had an airtight prenup. Christina would get a mil or two tops and no property.
Lost in thought, Jake realized Christina had asked him a question.
‘What?’ he asked. ‘I said, Did you mean everything you told me tonight?’
‘Of course I meant it.’ He looked in her eyes for a long time, then said, ‘I promise I’ll never hurt you again.’ He kissed her.
‘Gotta take a leak.’
He put his pants and shirt on, making sure he had his cell phone, and went down the hallway into the bathroom.
He dialed a number, and then, talking low, almost whispering, he said, ‘Robby?’
‘Jake?’ Robert Henderson asked.
Jake heard background noise - people talking.
‘I can’t talk any louder,’ Jake said. ‘I need you to take care of something for me - it’s very important.’
‘I’m actually at a restaurant right now with my wife—’
‘You don’t do this for me right now, you’re fired.’
‘If this is about
GQ,
I talked to the editor there, but I really can’t control what they—’
‘Fuck
GQ.
This is something big - very big. I need you to break a story for me.’
‘What story?’
‘I just set a wedding date with my fiancee.’
‘You have a fiancee?’
‘Of course I have a fiancee. She’s my high school sweetheart. We’ve been engaged for six years.’
‘I had no idea.’
‘Just listen to me.’ He wanted to add
you dumb fuck,
but didn’t. ‘You have to call the
Daily News
right now and give ‘em the scoop on my wedding. There’s still time to get it into the early edition.’
‘Why can’t it wait till—’
‘Because it can’t. Call Mike Kelly, a
News
reporter - I just saw him today at this big party my parents threw for me. Tell him it’s an exclusive but that we want the story out nationally too. Then you start working the phones. Make sure the Internet picks it up -make sure the whole world finds out about it ASAP.’
‘My sushi just arrived.’
‘Are you kiddin’ me?’
‘All right, look. I’ll call that guy, Mark. . . ?’
‘Mike,’ Jake said, raising his voice slightly. ‘Mike Kelly.’
‘Right,’ Robert said. ‘But I can’t make any guarantees about tomorrow morning. I mean, it’s getting kinda late and—’
‘Just tell them to wrap the fuckin’ sushi up, because you’re gonna be busy for the rest of the night.’
Jake gave Robert more details about the story - how the wedding date was set for next December, how excited he and Christina were, and a few quotes to use.
When Jake returned to bed, Christina said, ‘You okay?’
Jake had been gone for about ten minutes and needed a good excuse.
‘Ryan’s mother’s lasagna,’ he said, wincing.
Jake got out of bed quietly, trying not to wake Christina. He got dressed, then opened the top drawer of her dresser and found a notepad. He was fumbling around, looking for a pen, when Christina said, ‘Hey, there, sexy.’
Jake looked over and saw her lying in bed, propped up on one elbow, smiling.
‘Hey, morning, beautiful,’ he said smoothly. ‘How’d you sleep?’
‘Great,’ Christina said. Then she squinted, suddenly looking serious, and said, ‘Going somewhere?’
‘Nope,’ Jake said. ‘I was just, uh, looking for a comb.’
‘A comb?’
Jake realized this didn’t make any sense, with his close-cropped ‘do.
‘I mean gum. Did I say comb?’
‘Why don’t you come back to bed? Just for a few minutes.’
‘I was getting hungry. Why don’t we go out and grab a bite?’
‘I have to go to work in an hour.’
‘Really?’ Jake said, acting disappointed.
‘I would’ve taken off, but I thought we were gonna .. . I mean, I could call in sick. It wouldn’t be a big deal.’
‘No, no, it’s all right. I should probably spend some time with my parents anyway. Go to work - it’s fine.’
‘I’ll be home at five thirty,’ Christina said. ‘We can go out, if you want to, maybe to the city, Little Italy or the Village?’
‘Sounds like a plan,’ Jake said.
Christina sat up. She had a nice set; he had to give her that much. They were small, yeah, but they were perky and round. Then she stood up and bent over to pick up her panties from the floor. In daylight the cellulite was totally noticeable. If the paparazzi ever took a picture of her in a bikini and published it in the
Star
or the
Enquirer,
it would be a major fucking embarrassment.
After pulling on her panties, Christina turned back toward Jake and he cringed, noticing some flab on her stomach.
‘I’m so excited,’ Christina said. ‘I was up in the middle of the night and I couldn’t fall back asleep. I mean, I know the wedding’s more than a year away, but that’s not so long when you think about it. There’s so much to do. W e have to pick a place, and a band, and the flowers, and I have to get a dress. But I really don’t want to use a wedding planner. I mean, I know it’ll be a lot of work, but I’ve always dreamed of planning my own wedding. Is that okay with you?’
‘No,’ Jake said, thinking about how all the guys on the team would get on him for having a fat-assed wife.
‘It’s not okay?’ Christina said.
‘What?’
‘What’s not okay?’
‘Nothing.’ Then Jake realized what they were talking about. ‘Plan the wedding yourself. Why not?’
‘Thank you,’ Christina said. ‘So how much you wanna spend?’
‘Whatever. Couple hundred grand, half a mil.’
‘You want to spend half a million dollars on our wedding?’
‘Why not?’
‘Wow, I can’t believe this is happening. I might have to take some time off work to start planning everything. First we have to decide where to get married. You said you want to do it in December, right? So if we do it in New York, we’ll have to do it indoors.’
‘Right.’ Jake was distracted again, remembering how great Penelope Cruz had looked in his dream.
‘I was also thinking about something else,’ Christina said. ‘Maybe I should move in with you in Pittsburgh.’
Jake began to sweat.
‘Why would you want to do that?’
‘Why not? I mean, I’m gonna have to quit my job anyway after we get married, and it would be easier to plan everything if we’re together.’
‘I don’t think it’s a good idea.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because I’m not gonna be around a lot. I mean, I start working out in Florida in December, then I have spring training in February.’
‘You’re always gonna be busy with baseball. But I’ll see you a lot more in Pittsburgh than I will if I stay in Brooklyn.’
Looking in her eyes, trying not to look at her ass, Jake said, ‘But I thought you said you didn’t want to live with anybody before you got married.’
‘Yeah, but now that we have a date set - or at least we have a month set - I don’t see the point in being apart. I mean, we’re gonna be spending the rest of our lives together anyway, so we might as well get started. . . . Why? You don’t want me to move in with you?’
‘No, of course I want you to move in with me,’ Jake said. ‘But I don’t want you to have to leave your job and your father—’
‘I don’t care about my job, and my father’ll be okay here until he moves into the condo. . . . You know, maybe we should move up the wedding date. I want to get pregnant right away and start a family. Wouldn’t that be great?’
Jake pictured her pregnant, ballooning up to one hundred and eighty pounds.
‘I gotta talk to you about something,’ he said. ‘Something very important.’
‘What is it?’ Christina asked, concerned.
‘Don’t take this the wrong way,’ Jake said. ‘I mean, I don’t mean anything personal by this or anything. I mean, you can do whatever you want to do, but how about you go on a diet?’
‘Excuse me?’
‘Just to drop, like, five, ten pounds. I mean, I’m not saying you
need
to lose weight or anything. I’m just saying maybe if you want to, you know, firm up a little - I mean for the wedding and everything - maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad idea, you know? If you want, I can hire a trainer for you. It wouldn’t be a big deal just, like, five days a week till you get in shape. I mean, get in better shape.’
Christina turned away from Jake and stood there with her arms crossed in front of her chest. Again Jake noticed the cellulite and dimples on the sides of her thighs, and he was glad he’d had the balls to say something about it. Honesty was always the best policy, and it was better to nip a problem in the bud before it blew up into something big.
In this case, something really big.
After several seconds Christina went to the closet and put on a robe, standing with her back to him. He realized she was crying.
‘What’s wrong, baby?’
‘Just stay the hell away from me.’
‘I don’t get it. Why’re you freaking?’
‘You’re such an asshole. I can’t believe I was so stupid.’
‘Whoa, baby, I think you’re getting the wrong idea here. I just thought you wanted to look your best for the wedding, that’s all. I mean, lots of players’ wives have PTs and if you’re gonna have paparazzi following you wherever you go, I just thought you might want to lose some weight off your ass, that’s all.’
‘My ass?’
‘Not your ass.’
‘You just said ass.’
‘I didn’t mean ass. I meant everywhere. I mean—’
‘Why don’t you just get out?’
‘Whoa—’
‘I’m serious.’
‘This is crazy, baby. You know I love your ass. Your ass is the best thing about you.’
‘Just leave!’
‘Whoa, whoa, come on, relax, okay? Just take it easy.’ Jake was panicking, imagining the big headlines - ‘J.T. Accused of Sexual Assault,’ ‘J.T. Rapes Teenager,’ ‘Wedding Canceled’ - and how his whole career would be shot to hell.
‘Come on, baby, you know I think you’re the most beautiful woman in the world. If I didn’t, why would I want to marry you? Think about that for a second. You know how many marriage proposals I get in the mail every day? I get so many letters guys on the team call me Santa.’
Christina almost smiled.
‘Look, I don’t know why I said those stupid things,’ Jake went on. ‘It must be stress, you know? All this weekend, party, cominghome shit. I think you’re the greatest thing that ever happened to me. I mean it - I couldn’t live without you.’ Quoting Enrique Iglesias, he, said, ‘I will stand by you forever. You can take my breath away.’ He held her from behind and rested his chin on her shoulder. ‘You drive me so crazy - you’re so perfect in every way. Let’s start over, pretend we just woke up. How’d you sleep, baby?’
Christina waited a few seconds, then said, ‘Good.’ ‘Me too,’ Jake said. ‘Know why? Because I had the most beautiful woman in the world in bed next to me, that’s why.’
He kissed her neck softly; then he turned her around and started kissing her lips.
When he could tell he was getting her all worked up he pulled back and said, ‘I better let you get dressed, but I’ll see you tonight, okay? We’ll go out to some hot restaurant in the city, Nobu, Balthazar, Bobby Flay’s joint - you name it. Then we’ll go uptown and take a horse-and-buggy ride in Central Park. We’ll talk about the wedding, and where we’re gonna live, our whole future. Sound cool?’
‘I guess,’ Christina said.
Jake kissed her again, then called a limo. Christina showered and dressed for work, then the limo arrived.
‘You go,’ Christina said. ‘I still have to put on my makeup.’
‘Sure, baby? I mean, I can have the guy stick around till you’re ready.’
‘No, it’s okay, you go. I can take a bus.’
He kissed her good-bye at the front door, then asked her if she was okay with everything. She said she was, and he said, ‘Cool,’ and took off.
In the back of the limo Jake stretched out, glad to be alone. He knew he’d smoothed things over, but he figured he’d do more damage control later, just in case, telling her how sorry he was, and then eventually he’d have to figure out some way to get her to drop that poundage. Maybe he’d stick her in a Pilates class, or better yet, just cut to the chase and take her in for some lipo.
Jake asked the driver to swing over to Flatlands and stop at a newsstand. Jake went out and picked up a copy of the
Daily News,
then handed the bearded Pakistani dude a dollar.
‘Hey, how are you?’ the guy said to him, smiling widely.
Jake didn’t mind being recognized, but he hated it when total strangers talked to him like they were old friends.