“I don't need 'em . . . Now what's up with Forty-seventh Street, you goin' to get a new brim?” He took a pistol from a shelf inside the safe and pushed the heavy door closed.
“Nope, the kid upstairs is Daphne's son, she hired me to help him pay off a debt.”
“Daphne?”
“She used to live across the alley from me in Harvey.”
“Oh yeah, I seen her, Regina and Regina's mama together at something Martha had me go to. That girl now grown up! That's her boy huh? Is that the same li'l fellah that used to keep a pocketful of bottle tops, bones and nails and thangs?”
I chuckled, “Yeah, that was him. And there is something else going on with Daphne too, man, some other threat, but she hasn't felt the need to tell me about it yet. A guy in a white Bentley pulled alongside us and cursed her out. She acted like it was nothing, but something is up. The same is true with her rich friend out in Olympia Fields; we go out there and the butler all but pimp-slaps her.”
“No shit. Well you know how womens is, D; they don't never you tell the whole story until they have to. But I remember dat li'l chubby scamp of a boy though. He was always under your feet. Dat's somthin', dat li'l ole round kid now grew straight up. I thought he was gonna be fat. Umh. Let's ride, partner.” He dropped the .38 into his sweatsuit jacket pocket without a second thought.
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When we walked into McDonald's, Stanley's problem was there with three of his crew. They were boys, none over twenty-one. Young prison apprentices who could easily become young productive members of society if given an ounce of encouragement. Their leader, James Taylor, also known as JT, damn near gagged when he saw Ricky and me walk in.
He greeted us with, “Damn Snap, you said they was your uncles, but I thought you was bullshittin'. “
After Stanley paid him, JT asked Ricky did he have any openings at his stores. “Because I'm really gettin' tired of being out here like this and I hear you got a program for cats like me.”
At one time, young men who worked for Ricky sold weed from his hot dog carts. The guys who were industrious and made their quotas moved up to management and got to oversee other hot dog carts. If they proved good managers, Ricky brought them into his legitimate liquor-store business.
These street-recruited managers are largely responsible for the phenomenal growth of Ricky's liquor stores. What he had done to continue getting young goal-orientated brothers to work for him, since he no longer dabbled in street distribution, was start a management training program with his handpicked street managers doing the training.
Ricky told JT yes, he had a program for young cats looking to go straight, but to qualify a cat had to be either in high school, taking GED classes or in college. The program paid a management trainee eleven dollars and twenty-five cents an hour.
A trainee worked three point five hours and got paid for eight, as long as he was enrolled in school or a GED program. The boys quickly calculated that to be $400 a week, after taxes.
Of the boys sitting at the table, JT and Stanley were the only two in high school; the others were high-school dropouts. Stanley and JT wanted to know what they had to do next. Ricky told them to call him when school started, and if they were enrolled, they could apply to his program.
To the dropouts, he gave phone numbers to libraries where he knew the GED instructors. He told them if they provided letters of their enrollment, they could apply to his program as well. He gave each boy sitting at the table his business card.
I was a hundred percent sure Ricky would let all these kids into his program if they called. These were the kind of kids he bent over backwards for, those with desire, but no direction. His dominant interest however, was in the leader. JT was the diamond in the rough Ricky would refine. It was boys like him with the natural ability to lead who expanded Ricky's liquor-store empire.
Driving Ricky home and dropping him off, I found it curious how being in the company of the right person at the right time could provide the level-headedness that's needed. Seeing Ricky with those boys, feeling his concern, and sensing how badly he wanted to guide them down a better path was all the confirmation I needed.
My head was on right. Chester having my name was more important than him having Peal's money. My name would provide him with identity, money wouldn't. Fighting Regina on this was the right thing to do. She was wrong. I was right.
When we pulled to my house I noticed a white Bentley parked across the street. Instead of going into the underground garage, I made the block and came back around on the west side. I parked three cars behind with my lights out. And Stanley and I watched a big guy getting out of the Bentley from the driver's side. He was holding something in his hand. I drew both 9 mms and told Stanley to stay put. I slipped out of my Caddy and was about four steps behind the guy, who was a step away from my porch, when someone from across the street yelled, “MacKnock, watch out!” and opened fire on me from the Bentley. I dove to the grass, rolling. The big guy followed me, shooting down into the grass all around me. I stopped moving because maybe he was not trying to shoot me and I didn't want to roll into a bullet.
I guessed right because he stopped shooting and darted across the street into the Bentley. They pealed out from the curb. Stanley ran to me, “Are you okay, Mr. Price?” He helped me up and patted me for wounds. “I can't believe he missed standing over you like that!”
“He wasn't trying to shoot me. He was trying to stop me from seeing him. Let's get inside before the police roll up. If they don't see us standing out front, they will ride on by. Let's get in.”
“Did you see him?”
“Nothing but his feet and the fire from his pistol.”
Shots fired are not a rarity on my block. Mostly it's teenagers popping off rounds in an alley. With us not standing outside, I hoped the police would assume that was what occurred and roll on by. I didn't feel like talking to them or filing a report.
Chapter Eleven
When Stanley and I walked into my house, Daphne was sitting on the sofa. She greeted us with a tense, nervous smile. I thought she was upset about the shots, but that wasn't the case.
“All done?” she asked us.
“Huh?”
“With Stanley's situation?”
“Oh yeah, that problem is solved,” I told her.
“Hey Ma, check this, this dude tried to bust a caâ”
Daphne cut him off with, “Tell me on the ride home, son.”
“Y'all leaving?” I asked surprised.
“Yes, I think it would be best . . . While you were gone . . . Regina called. I was dozing. The phone was ringing and I answered it. She was surprised I was here. Even more surprised that I was here and you weren't. We talked . . . One thing led to another . . . She said Randolph called her and told her I was representing you . . . She's pissed about it . . . called me some names . . . I called her some names, and she now knows that we were intimate.” She ran the last words together as she stood from the sofa.
Her eyes were on me and she was holding her breath.
“And what does that have to do with you leaving tonight?” I asked.
“I didn't know if you would want me to stay or not? And Regina said some things that made me uncomfortable.”
Stanley stood there looking at us like we were the television.
“You know what, we need to talk alone. Would you excuse us, Stanley? I got half a pizza from Nancy's Space Age on the bottom shelf of the fridge.”
“Cool.” He dashed to the kitchen.
With the kid gone, I stood right up on her and asked, “Now what were you saying?”
“Regina's statements upset me. And you and I hadn't talked about how we were going to handle things with her. So I figured we both could use a little space.”
“Oh . . . okay . . . But did I tell you that I really liked you in that camisole?” I lowered my head to her neck and kissed it, again and again.
“What?”
“I like your suit, too.” I kissed her neck on the other side. “I like how you matched your colors with mine.” I kissed the tip of her ear. “I like your thin but shapely legs.” I kissed her ear lobe. “I like your pouty lips and round hips.” I lightly kissed her lips and the tip of her nose. “I like your thin hair and slender neck.” I unbuttoned her jacket.
“And in case you forgot, we got someplace to go tonight.” My hand was under her camisole; I flipped my thumb across her nipple and kissed the top of her cleavage. “I need to go there. It's been a hard day and I hear people can relax there.” I dropped my hand to her thighs and found her stockings were off. I took my hand up and found wetness. “Mm, you can't leave here, woman . . . no . . . you got to take me to the country.”
Later, I planned to ask her about the white Bentley, but at that moment my mind was on convincing her to spend the night.
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It was 12:30
A.M.
and the phone was blaring. Daphne grabbed it and said, “hello” and then, “sorry.” She handed the receiver to me.
It was Regina. Before a word came out of my mouth, she called me an evil conniving bastard. She said she hoped Daphne was a good fuck and a good lawyer, because it would be a cold day in hell before I saw Chester again. She advised me to forget I had a son.
It was officially on.
Neither Daphne nor I could go back to sleep after Regina's call. She laid with her head on my chest, not saying a word for close to half an hour before she asked, “What do you think?”
“About?”
“Regina.”
“I think she's being the spoiled brat she has always been.”
“Only a man would say that.”
“What, is this another one of Gina's power moves?”
“I didn't say that, but I do understand how she feels. I'm her girl and I'm laying up with her man.”
“I am not her man. I am her ex-husband. It's been over between me and Regina.” I was lying a little, but technically it was the truth.
“Regardless, I understand how she feels.”
The doorbell chimed, and Yin and Yang went ballistic. The only time they bark at the doorbell is when Ricky rings it. I looked at the clock. It was close to one in the morning, no longer Ricky's traveling time. A bit spooked, I immediately went to the door.
When I opened the door, the words out of his mouth were, “Man, what the fuck did you do to Gina? Martha had to go out to her place to stop her from comin' over here and shootin' ya ass. What da fuck is up?”
What stopped him from barreling past me into the house was Yin and Yang. They would not allow him to pass the doorway. Their ears were lowered and their teeth were bared. Ricky must have done something really mean to them when they were puppies, because they truly hate him.
“Man, you better tell these mutts to bow down, before I put they ass to sleep fo' real.” To them, he said, “You two mutts ain't scaring me.” But he didn't move past the break of the doorway. I gave the command “friend” and they reluctantly let him pass.
“Martha went out to Harvey this time of night?”
“Yeah, and you lucky she did.” Ricky dropped his heavy frame down on my couch. “Gina was set on comin' over here with pistol cocked. What's going on, man?”
“I was going to tell you earlier, but I didn't. Regina is getting married to this rich white cat and she wants him to adopt Chester?”
“What? A white cat? Damn, pissed you off, huh? But hold it, how she gonna put a boy up fo' adoption dat got a daddy?”
“That's what I said.”
“It can happen.” Daphne walked into the front room in my robe.
Ricky turned his melon-sized head to see who was speaking. She walked into his line of vision, “Hello, I'm Daphne Nelson.”
“Mm . . . oh!” The eyebrows on his fat face rose with his exclamation. Ricky's huge face shows what he feels and thinks. “You must be âthe heifer that's over there now' dat Regina wants to come see.” Ricky alone laughed at his Regina rendition. “You ain't got to introduce ya'self like we strangers. I knew you when you used to jump rope out in Harvey.” Ricky turned his melon to me. “And you did too, didn't you? You said you was protecting her son. Is da boy even here?”
I stepped to him in a snap. “Nigga, who is questioning like that? This is my damn house.” Ricky knew good and well he never saw Daphne jumping rope on the block. She had to be a teenager when Regina and I moved to Harvey. Her son was four or five when I first met him.
“I know whose house it is, man. Calm yourself.” He put a sly, consoling grin on his face. “I was just tryin' to get my facts straight. I come over and she got on ya robe, you in ya shorts and ya wifeâ”
“Ex-wife!” I interjected.
“Okay, ya ex-wife, Gina, screamin' on da phone about shootin' you and a heifer. I was trying' to get a understandin' of what was really goin' on. But shit, I didn't even have to come over here. I coulda stayed my fat ass in da bed.” He turned away from me and Daphne and huffed. “I don't need dis here, call myself helpin'. I ain't da one dat got the li'l girl from down the block in my bed. No wonder Gina talkin' about comin' over and bustin' a cap in ya ass.”
Before I could set his self-righteous tail straight, the doorbell chimed and all three of us jumped. Ricky asked, “You think I should get it? It might be her.”
“No, this my house, and I can answer the door.”
I went to the door and asked, “Who is it?”
“It's me, David. Carol.”
I thought I even heard the dogs sigh in relief. Out the corner of my eye I caught a flicker of Daphne running up the stairs. My guess was to get dressed. I commanded the dogs to the kitchen and let Carol in.
“David, I'm sorry to bother you like this. It's just that I got a call from Regina a little while ago and it bothered me.” Carol walked in and hugged me. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah, I'm fine. Come on in, Ricky's here too.”
“Hey, Carol the kitty.” Ricky had twisted his melon all the way around to see Carol. They have a history. He flirts with her, she can't stand the sight of him. “Come on over here and sit next to me.”
“Thank you, but no thank you, Mr. Brown.”
When she walked past the couch Ricky moaned, “Slimmie slimmie, please let me.”
Carol sucked her teeth and slightly audibly said, “Disgusting, married, yellow pig.”
I know he heard her, but he acted like he didn't, and after she sat in the recliner she smiled at him just as nice and asked, “How is Mrs. Brown?”
“She fine . . . Dat sho' is a pretty sundress. Dat African print looks nice on you. Did you go to Africa to get it?”
Carol completely ignored his compliment and question, “David, Regina was livid. I had the office phone forwarded to my home, and the message she left you was serious. She's planning on going to court over your son. Whatever plans you have, you better get started right away.
“She left another message by mistake; I think she thought she'd reached her attorney's service. She was giving him the go-ahead to get started. What happened?”
I hunched my shoulders and threw up my hands. “I guess her lawyer boyfriend called her and told her Daphne was my lawyer, is the best I can figure.”
“And that sent her into a rage? No. That doesn't sound like Regina.” Carol sat back in the big chair and crossed her legs.
Ricky reached into the pocket of his sweatsuit jacket and pulled out a pack of Newports and lit one.
“Yeah you right 'bout dat. Sounds like somebody ain't tellin' you everthang. Huh?”
“Pardon?”
“Don't pay him any attention, Carol.”
Daphne hadn't left to change clothes. She returned wearing my robe and carrying the file of newspapers from her trunk.
“Oh! Hello, Daphne.” Carol gave Daphne the same smile she gave Ricky and settled her catlike eyes on me.
I sat down on the couch next to Ricky and Daphne sat in the love seat. Carol, who was in the recliner, was kind of out of our circle.
“Well, ain't this cozy?” Ricky exhaled smoke and words simultaneously.
Daphne was directly across from Ricky and me with my mahogany coffee table between us. She placed the file on the table and emptied the contents. Carol stood and walked toward us.
Daphne's eyes went to the newspapers on the table, then up to us. Her eyes were filled with tears. Her hands and shoulders started trembling. I was going to go to her, but Carol sat down and hugged her. Ricky tore off the top of his box of Newports and extinguished his cigarette in it.
Daphne cried openly. “I didn't mean for it to happen.” She pulled free from Carol's hug and pointed to the papers. “Look . . . look and see what I did. I did that. I got those people killed!”
The headlines read,
CHURCH BUS CRASHES.
16 BURN TO DEATH.
“I set the accident up. The driver of the car was a pro. He was supposed to get a truck to rear-end him up on the embankment, but the car hit the bus and the bus hit the wall. The bus blew up and killed all those people. All those church folks burned to death.”
Daphne stood and went to my book case/ bar. She filled a highball glass full of Remy and drank. “I told Randolph we had to go to the police.” She sipped from the glass. “He said no; told me the case would be our breakthrough case. He represented the families of the passengers on the bus.” She looked into her drink. “He was right. It was our breakthrough case.
“After he got all those families large settlements, we became the personal-injury lawyers for black folks. He said he was going to stop doing the staged accidents, but he didn't, and neither did I. The money was too easy. Companies started settling as soon as they saw his name on the documents. Instead of doing fewer staged accidents, we did more.”
Holding one of the newspapers in my hand, I said, “I remember this.”
“Yeah, me too. Aspire Trucking. The guy who ran the joint was a decent guy. Matthew MacNard was his name. It was a operation with only two trucks. Da accident closed them down.”
“Yeah, I remember, the manger of the trucking company shot himself in the head.”
“David!” Carol shot me a look.
“What!”
Carol cut her eyes to Daphne. I hadn't thought about how my words might have added to her guilt.
“Damn, baby, I'm sorry, but this wasn't your fault. Death goes where it's supposed to. You, me, nobody can direct it. God's will is God's will.”