“What now?”
“He said a couple of nights ago his brother was forced into the limo at gunpoint by three men. They beat him pretty bad and dumped him out of the car.”
“He all right?”
“Howard says he’s in the hospital, but he’ll be all right. But last night somebody took a shot at him. Howard walked into the lobby of his building and somebody was waitin’ there pointin’ a.38. Howard ducked and the bullet grazed his right shoulder. Since he went down from the impact, the shooter thought he was dead. But Howard saw the guy get into a black Lexus. He recognized the car. Thinks it belongs to a guy that works for Watson. His name is Clay Barksdale.”
“This nigga wanna play gangster?” Black laughed.
“Looks that way.”
“What’d you tell him?”
“Don’t worry about it. That he should go on with his business like this wasn’t happenin’.”
“Good.” Black finished his drink and put the glass down. “Anything else I need to know about?”
“No, everything else is smooth. What do you want me to do about Charles Watson?”
“It’s your house to run, handle it however you think you should. But if you’re askin’ for my advice, I think you should handle it personally and as violently as possible.”
“Establish myself.”
“Make sure people know who you are and things ain’t no different. But do it in a way that leaves us an opportunity to cut into his construction company.”
“I’ll take care of it, but I got a question. What exactly am I establishing myself as? What I’m askin’ is, are we stayin’ in or am I overseeing us getting out?”
“That’s entirely up to you. We’re moving to be more legitimate, but as long as we’re making money, I see absolutely no reason to give up that money. So what I’m tellin’ you is this, it’s your house to run as long as you want to and as long as you make us money.”
Black looked at me for what seemed like a long time. Then he stood up and went to the bar. I thought that he was thinking about the best way for me to do what he wanted done.
“Do you remember when you used to run that crap game?” he asked while he poured.
I had no idea where he was goin’ with this. “What were we, sixteen, seventeen then?”
“Something like that.”
“Made a lot of money runnin’ that game.”
“You damn sure did. You remember Big Willie; used to always wanna fight everybody?” Black said and laughed.
“Yeah, that muthafucka was crazy,” I laughed. “Talkin’ ’bout killin’ niggas when he lost.”
“Like that night he lost all that money and said you was usin’ loaded dice.”
We both stopped laughing.
I hadn’t thought about that night in years, but now it was like it had just happened the day before. Everybody was bettin’ Big Money, and this kid named Ricky Wells was on a roll. Big Willie starts screamin’ about how much money he lost and how the dice must be loaded.
I told him to shut the fuck up and take his broke-ass home. Then I handed the dice back to Ricky and I took my eyes off Big Willie. Before I knew it, I was on my back, and he was standing over me, pointin’ a gun.
“Nobody talks to me like that!” Big Willie yelled and cocked the hammer. Just then, Black comes out of nowhere and hits Big Willie so hard that it broke his jaw.
Willie dropped the gun and grabbed his face.
Black pulled out a gun and held it to Willie’s head. I didn’t even know Black had a gun.
“You ain’t killin’ nobody tonight; especially him. Get the fuck outta here and don’t ever let me catch you ’round here.” Black told him that night.
I sat there nodding my head, remembering that night. “Glad you were there ’cause I was sure he was gonna kill me.”
“You’re my like a brother to me, Nick. Just like Bobby. I wouldn’t let him kill you.”
“I know that.”
I never knew that Black looked at me that way. I moved to the block when I was eleven. It was always him and Bobby who were like brothers. They’d been tight since the second grade. I always felt like an outsider around them. I guess I was wrong, but it felt good to know.
“Then why would you think I’d let Bobby kill you?”
Now why he wanna go there with this?
I dropped my head and buried it in the palms of my hands. I hadn’t thought about that night with Big Willie, and I try not to think about that night.
Her name was Camille Augustus. She was Bobby’s woman, but I was in love with her. Bobby found out and lost his mind.
I remembered it all.
“Bobby, put the gun down,” Black yelled.
I felt Bobby's hand tighten around my throat.
“I’ll kill you!” Bobby screamed.
Black put his gun to Bobby’s head. “Bobby, please,” he said quietly. “Take the gun out of his mouth and put it down.”
Black moved his gun away from Bobby’s head. Bobby let go of my throat and slowly eased his gun out of my mouth. I reached for my throat and took a step away from Bobby.
“Don’t think this is over.”
I remember walking away, trying to catch my breath; hearing Bobby screamin’ “I’ma kill you. And that bitch!”
I lifted my head and Black was still looking me. I guess he was waiting for an answer. When I had none to offer, Black continued. “Why didn’t you come to me?”
“The way it turned out, I should have.”
Black slammed his glass down on the coffee table. “Fuck that, Nick! No matter how it turned out, you shoulda never left like you did. You shoulda came me. I woulda settled that shit. You didn’t have to join the fuckin’ Army. We had just made our big move, things were ’bout to change and you’re gone.”
“I was wrong, Black. I know that. I thought Bobby killed Camille and would be coming for me next. You woulda been in the middle of it. I couldn’t put you in that position: having to choose between me and Bobby.”
“That wasn’t your choice to make.”
“What would you have done if Bobby shot me?”
“I don’t know. I’m glad I never had to find out,” Black said and I heard my cell phone ringing in the bedroom. I got up quickly and went to answer it. I was glad that it rang and hoped when I got back he would be done with it and moved on to something else.
“Hello.”
“Mr. Simmons, this is Roslyn Phillips speaking. How are you today?”
“I’m doin’ fine, Mrs. Phillips. How are you?”
“I’ll manage. I was calling for two reasons.”
“What’s that, Mrs. Phillips?” I already knew what one of them was.
“I wanted to know if you had found who killed Zakiya.”
“Not yet, but I’m workin’ on it.”
“I see. Well, I know these things take time. But I just thought I’d ask. But the main reason I was calling was to make sure that you would be at her funeral today?”
I hadn’t planned on going. Hadn’t given it any thought at all, to be honest about it. But I promised that I would be there. Mrs. Phillips gave me the address of the church and I hung up. I went back to the living room and hoped that Black wanted to talk about Charles Watson and not me runnin’ out on him.
“That was Mrs. Phillips on the phone,” I said when I got back in the room.
“Wants to know about Zakiya?”
“That and whether I was comin’ to her funeral.”
“Are you?”
“I told her I’d be there. Since you’re dressed for it, you wanna come with me?”
“No.” Black said definitely. “I have a lunch meeting with Wanda and somebody else with a name I can’t pronounce. After that, I gotta meet Bobby at the club to talk to P Harlem and his agent about some shit P did to lose his record deal. Then I have a dinner meeting at Cuisine with our investment banker.”
“Meka Brazil?”
Black looked at me like he was surprised I knew that. Then I guess he thought about it. “Wanda.”
I nodded my head.
“Tell me about Zakiya Phillips?”
“Word I got is that the shooters were Jasper Robinson’s people.”
“JR?”
“I talked to him and I don’t think he knows anything about it.”
“How’s he doin’?”
“He looked all right to me, but his daughter says he’s been sick.”