Authors: Silhouettes
Street Soldier 2 (4 page)
I hung up and went back outside to get a closer look at Nate, who was still being questioned by one of the officers. I was somewhat nervous, because I didn't want the police to get after him over something he had no control over. A long time ago, Nate had done time in prison. He said that he'd been on the right track ever since he'd been out, and I trusted his word. Still, I knew the police had done a background check on him and viewed him as nothing but a convicted felon. He was so much more than just that and was truly a good man who I was pleased to call my mentor. He was much better than that stupid motherfucker I knew as my father, and I couldn't help but think about the night that I had gone to his house to kill him.
My partner, Cedric, and me sat in Romeo's car waiting for my father, Derrick, to come home. I didn't know if he was out with one of his many bitches that night, or if he was at the pool hall with some of his partners. Maybe he was at the strip club watching the women shake their asses. I had seen him at the strip club several weeks before, and we had words that upset me more than they did him. I had even gone to his house to borrow some money from him, but unbeknownst to me, that's the day I found out how much that nigga hated me. He gave me fifty lousy dollars, and pulled a gun out on me because I was disappointed in the amount. I'd needed some money to get Romeo out of jail, and Derrick was my only option. As I threw a fit, he threatened to kill me, and I threatened to do the same. I was determined to get at him before he got to me, so I waited for him that day. Just as I ran out of assumptions about where he was, I watched the nigga as he pulled into his driveway. Two cars were behind him, and when I saw three men get out, that's when I looked over at Cedric.
“Watch my back,” I said. “If anybody look like they want to jump, you know what to do.”
Cedric nodded and cocked his gun. Before the men went inside, I hurried out of the car and jogged across the street. My black hoodie was over my head and as I was dressed in all black, Derrick didn't even see me creeping up on him. I whispered his name and that's when his head snapped to the side.
I wasted no time pulling the gun from my pants, aiming it at him. “Good night, motherfucka. Sleep tight.” The silencer fired off two shots that were quiet as a mouse. All Derrick's partners saw was his body drop to the hard concrete. Before they could pull out their guns, Cedric dropped one of the men from a distance. The other stood with his hands held up high and away from Derricks's body. Sweat laced his forehead and he didn't know what to say.
I removed the hoodie from my head. “Do you know who I am?” I asked.
He squinted and slowly nodded. “You Derrick's son, ain't you?”
I was trigger happy, and little did the man know, he had the wrong answer. “Wrong answer. I'm nobody you should know. Do I need to try this again?”
I was getting ready to unload on his ass, but he begged me not to. “You're right. I ... I don't know you and I've never seen you before in my life. Let me live, man, and I swear there won't be no beef between me and you.”
I turned my gun sideways, frowning and high as hell. “Nigga, I don't trust you. Youâ”
“But you can,” he rushed to say. “You can trust me. I'll give you anything you want and nobody will ever know what happened here.”
“What I want is what's due to me. Eighteen years of back pay, and the sooner you figure out what that is, the better off you'll be.”
Cedric walked up to me. “Man, why you out here negotiating with this fool? Kill his ass and let's go.”
“No,” the man said in a shaky voice. “I can take care of that for you. Just give me until tomorrow and you'll be set for life.”
I told Cedric to hold his gun steady on the man and asked Cedric for his cell phone. He gave it to me, then lifted his gun where the red razor light was aimed at the man's forehead. I gave the man my gun and told him to shoot Derrick again.
“Why?” he asked.
“Evidence. If you cross me, I'll have proof that you did this, not me.”
The man hesitated, but shot off two more bullets that tore holes into Derrick's chest. I took my pictures, and the man quickly handed the gun back to me.
Cedric lowered his gun, unclear about what I was doing.
“Meet me downtown tomorrow by the riverboats at noon,” I said. “Have my money and you never have to see my face again.”
The man nodded and Cedric and I ran to get into the car. I sped off and he couldn't wait to ask.
“That cat Derrick was yo' old dude?”
I nodded, feeling not an ounce of lost love for him.
“Daaaamn. I thought I was ruthless, but you did that shit with no remorse. From what I know, he got a lot of connections, Prince, and I hope that shit don't come back to haunt you.”
I shrugged, not really giving a care, but hoping that his friend wouldn't cross me.
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The next day, his friend met up with me, giving me $300,000. I thought it would go a long way, but my friend Cedric had snaked me, causing much of that money to slip away. He had me set up, and unfortunately, he didn't live much longer after that. I had no tolerance for people who fucked me, and father or not, Derrick deserved to die by the hands of his own son.
I continued to look across the street, but I was sure Nate knew how to handle himself under pressure. It appeared as if he had everything under control. I leaned against the glass windows with my hands in my pockets, keeping my eyes on things. Many people were still hanging out, trying to see what was going on. I was so involved until I got a whiff of sweet perfume that tickled my nose. When I turned my head, I saw Poetry standing very close by while talking to another chick. This time, Poetry rocked thigh-high jean shorts that revealed her shapely, tall legs. A pair of wood platform heels with turquoise, yellow, and pink flowers on them covered her feet, exposing her manicured toenails. An off-the-shoulder pink shirt cut at her midriff and stretched around her tiny breasts. Her short cut was neatly lined and her makeup and eyelashes were on like a work of art. I stared at her just for a moment, giving her the attention she truly deserved. When I turned my attention back to the scene of the crime, that's when she sashayed by without saying a word to me. She was with an older woman who wobbled by with a cane. I could see some striking resemblances and I noticed them laughing and talking a lot. The older woman put some clothes in the dryer, and they both sat down to talk. Realizing that Poetry must have driven her relative there to dry some clothes, I jogged across the street and waited until the last police car left, which was only a few minutes later. With my hands sunk into my pockets, I went inside of the liquor store to check on Nate.
“Everything cool?” I asked as he stood folding his arms.
“Yeah, it's fine. I just hate bein' questioned by them mothersuckas. They always tryin' to make you feel guilty about somethin' you ain't have nothin' to do with. We good, though, so no worries.”
I looked down at the bloodstained floor, shaking my head. “I hope ol' boy gon' be okay. He seemed like a fighter. I was surprised the ambulance got here so soon.”
“Yeah, me too. I think he gon' make it and I hope he stay away from here with all that damn beggin' he be doin'. Some people don't like that shit, and those fools who shot him betta not come by here again. I see those fools runnin' through here all the time. They know better than to spray bullets around here, especially with those kids around.”
“Kids around or not, those niggas do not care. I'm just glad nobody else was hurt. That kind of mess can hurt business.”
“I agree. But today is today, and all we can do is look forward to tomorrow. Now let's get this place closed and cleaned up. Besides, it's gettin' late. I got myself a date tonight.”
“With who?” I laughed. “And whoever she is, I hope you don't run out here sportin' those bibs and Stacys. You gotta look fly for the ladies. Even I know that.”
Nate looked at my black Air Jordans that had red untied shoelaces. My cargo shorts weren't all that clean and my wife beater made me look simple. “You need not tell me how to dress, lookin' like that. Those young gals might like all those muscles and thug shit you got goin' on, but real women ain't down with that. I'm sure yo' mama is goin' to love me in my bibs tonight.”
Nate laughed, and I knew he was joking about being with Mama, as he had done so many times in the past. I tried to hook the two of them up on the side, but Mama wasn't having it. I guess Nate was too nice for her, and Raylo seemed to have her on lock, especially since the last beat-down she'd caught for cheating on him.
Almost an hour later, Nate and I had finished cleaning the floor. He locked up, then headed upstairs to his apartment to get dressed for his date. I went back to the laundromat, and since it was almost eleven o'clock, I reminded the people inside that I'd be closing in an hour. It angered me when I'd see people strolling in at five minutes to midnight, trying to wash their clothes. Sometimes I didn't mind staying, but if the sign on the door said
OPEN UNTIL MIDNIGHT,
then why not come earlier? Either way, it had been a long day and I wasn't staying any longer than I had to tonight. I had already started to tidy up, and when I looked around to see if Poetry and the older woman were still there, I noticed they were gone.
OPEN UNTIL MIDNIGHT,
then why not come earlier? Either way, it had been a long day and I wasn't staying any longer than I had to tonight. I had already started to tidy up, and when I looked around to see if Poetry and the older woman were still there, I noticed they were gone.
The floor was filthy, so I got my mop from the closet and started to clean the floor. There were three ladies left inside, and one brotha who was helping his woman fold some clothes. They were talking about what had happened earlier and were watching the updates on the late-night news. As I strolled by with the mop, one of the ladies asked if I had change for fifty dollars.
“Your machine doesn't change fifties and it's all I got,” she said.
I reached in my pocket, then counted out the change to her. As I was doing so, I looked up and saw Poetry come back inside. This time, she walked over to the other woman to converse with her.
“Thanks,” the woman said. “I'm almost done, and I shouldn't be much longer.”
All I did was nod and continued to mop the floor. I purposely ignored Poetry, who laughed a bit, talked louder, and even stood right next to me, getting a soda as I cleaned the floor. Once I was done, I returned the mop to the closet and went into my office. I called to check on Mama, but got no answer. Then I called to see what Francine was up to, since I told her I'd see her later. She didn't answer either, so I pulled a crossword puzzle book from my desk and started to work it.
Watching the clock tick away, at five minutes to midnight, I got up to see if anyone was still there. The only person I saw was the brotha who had been folding his clothes, but he was on his way out. With a cart in front of him, he rolled it out the door.
“I'll bring this back in,” he shouted so I could hear him. “So, don't lock the door.”
I walked toward the front door, watching as the brotha loaded his clothes in the car. He returned the cart and I took it from him at the door.
“Thanks,” I said and he walked off.
I was tired as hell and seriously needed some rest from being up all night. I locked the door, and pushed the cart alongside the others. Surprisingly, when I looked to my far right, Poetry sat with her legs crossed and a newspaper in front of her.
“We're closed,” I said.
She lowered the newspaper to her lap, and looked at the round clock on the wall. “Last time I checked, you closed at midnight. I still have two minutes.”
In no mood for her tonight, I ignored her and went back to my office. Routinely, I removed my Glock from my drawer, tucking it inside of my pants. Then, I checked the back door to make sure it was locked, secured my supply closet and, after grabbing my keys off my desk, I closed the door to my office. I turned off the TV and the lights followed thereafter. The streetlight outside was the only thing that gave off light.
“Daang,” Poetry said, standing up. She walked toward the door where I was. “How am I supposed to see what I'm reading?”
“Take the paper with you because we're officially closed.”
She placed the newspaper in one of the chairs. “No, that's okay. I didn't come in here to read anyway. I came to ask you for a job.”
“I'm not hiring.”
She shrugged. “Maybe not, but I see a whole lot of things around here that need to be done.”
“Whatever those things are, they'll eventually get done by me. So I'll say it again ... Not hiring.”
She folded her arms. “Okay, but why haven't you called me? You say I'm too ghetto for you, but I digress.”
“I haven't called because I don't have your number. Just in case you forgot, it's in the trash. As for the ghetto thing ... yeah, whatever, ma. You know what's up.”
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