Rik stepped into the shop and waved to the owner’s son, Anthony. Anthony was a typical young Italian. He wore the flyest tailored suits out there, but fucked them up by wearing too much jewelry. He had a Rolex on one wrist, a Rolex bracelet on the other, three rings on his left-hand fingers, and four rings on his right-hand fingers… way too much.
Rik headed for the suits. He was going to find something on the rack and have it tailored to his specifications. Charcoal was the color he needed, something in a really dark gray color, not too close to black, but none of that light gray shit either. Something that looked fly. He already had the shoes and a tie that would go perfectly with what he had in mind.
“Well hello, Tyrik!” Detective Ellington greeted him from behind.
“Spending a little bit of that dope money today, are we?” Detective Davis asked, stepping to the other side of Rik.
Rik saw that the detectives had him boxed in. “Man, what y’all want?”
“We’re putting together a greatest-hits mix tape,” Ellington told him. “We got your soundtrack from the dope deals you made.”
“And your conversations with your cellmate while you were in jail,” Davis added.
“And of course the best one of all, your conversation with Ms. Scott,” Ellington told him.
“You know, the one where she offered you the money to make a two-million-dollar bond,” Davis added, placing his arm around Rik.
Instantly Rik became nervous. How the fuck do they know that?
“I don’t know what y’all are talking about,” Rik told them.
“Ah, ah, ah, ah. Let’s not play stupid, Tyrik,” Davis said. “Don’t make me pull out my little tape recorder and play it back for you.”
Ellington shook her head and whispered into Rik’s ear. “You really don’t want him to pull out the tape recorder. It really pisses him off when he has to do that. Besides, if we listen to all those tapes of you discussing drug deals and drug money, we might find reason to indict you once again.”
“Okay.” Rik lifted his hands in surrender. “What do you want from me?”
“The offer your little friend made to you… do you think that you can get her to make it again?” Ellington asked.
“What, the offer to post my bond?” Rik asked. “Why would she do that? I’m not in jail.”
Davis produced a pair of handcuffs. “That’s not a problem. I can definitely make that happen.”
“I haven’t done shit!” Rik protested.
“You think that means something to me?” Davis asked with a crooked smile.
“Let’s just say, we have an arrangement to make with you,” Ellington told him.
“And that would be?” Rik asked, lifting an eyebrow.
“We want you to borrow some money from her,” Ellington told him.
“For what?”
“To keep your black ass out of prison!” Ellington snapped. “However much you want, just so long as it’s an emergency, and she’ll loan it to you. She offered it to you once, right?”
“What, you want to get her on tape offering me some money?” Rik asked. “I ain’t wearing no wire!”
“No, dipshit, we already have her on tape offering you the money!” Davis told him. “Can you get her to loan you the money or what?”
“Maybe,” Rik said, looking at the pair of oink-oinks standing in front of him. “What’s in it for me?”
Davis and Ellington exchanged glances. “Um, like besides staying out of jail, you get to keep whatever you can get her to loan you,” Ellington replied.
“Bullshit!” Rik said, looking at Letoya as if she were out of her mind. “This is a setup.”
Davis shoved Rik up against a clothing rack. “This ain’t no bullshit, boy! You either cooperate with us, or we’ll make your life a living hell. You got that?”
Rik nodded.
“Good.” Ellington stuffed one of her cards into Rik’s pocket. “If she agrees, you contact me ASAP. You got that?”
Rik nodded.
Ellington and Davis turned and exited the store. Davis turned to his partner. “There ain’t no way in hell we’re letting him keep that money.”
Ellington nodded. “I know, but it sounded good, right?”
Davis laughed and climbed into the car.
Inside, Rik straightened out his clothing. What the fuck is wrong with the police? Those two must be out their minds. If they think for one second that they’re getting in on my meal ticket, they can forget it. There was no way he was calling them, or doing anything else for them or with them. He pulled the detective’s card from his pocket, tore it up, and tossed it over his shoulder. He was here to enjoy himself, relax, and shop, and that was exactly what he planned to do.
The Clam Bar and Pat’s Cheese Steaks in South Philly was where everyone hung out on the weekend, especially after the clubs closed down at two in the morning. Grabbing something to eat and hanging out on the smaller streets of South Philly was a longstanding Saturday night ritual for Philly’s young hip-hop partygoers. Showing off their new clothes or skimpy outfits and their souped-up cars with shiny rims was the thing to do.
And if you were a female, being with a hot boy was also the thing to do. Kevvy Kev’s 5.0 Mustang Convertible GT made him a hot boy, and that was one of the reasons Bria made him her boyfriend. Kevvy Kev’s 5.0 was burgundy, with a ground-effects kit and a massive whale tail in the back. It was sitting on seventeen-inch all-gold Daytons that matched the car’s peanut-butter interior and gold trim. And Kevvy Kev’s stereo system was off the chain as well. Without a doubt, Kevvy Kev had the cleanest ride on the scene every weekend. Bria loved to be seen inside that car, especially when the top was down and the system was booming. They would joyride for hours, riding around the city aimlessly.
Tonight Kevvy Kev had the top down, and everybody was out and about. The weather had finally cleared, and for the first time in a long time the stars were visible.
“What do you want outta here?” Kevvy Kev asked.
“Get me a cheese steak with fried onions, mayonnaise, ketchup, and salt and pepper. And get some cheese fries and a Pepsi,” Bria told him.
Kevvy Kev climbed out of the car, and Bria caressed his behind. She loved herself some Kevvy Kev. And so did a lot of other girls, she knew. She had already gotten into four fights over him, but that was okay, because to her he was worth fighting for. Kevvy Kev had the most dreamy brownish-green eyes that a girl could ever imagine. She loved it when he sat between her legs while she cornrolled his long hair, and he would stare up at her with those damn emeralds he called eyes. And those lips of his were the sexiest lips she had ever come across. She loved to suck on them; they felt like orange slices in her mouth. She was getting wet just thinking about how fine and how cute he was.
“Hey, Bria!”
She turned to see who was calling to her. A car filled with football players from her high school pulled into the parking lot next to her.
“What’s up, baby?” one of them, a guy named Troy, asked her. “When you gonna drop that half-breed zero and get with this hero?”
“When that hero gets his own car and stops riding in the backseat of somebody else’s.”
“Oh, it’s like that, huh?” Troy asked.
“Troy, you not even riding shotgun yet; you still backseat, right passenger side window.”
The rest of the guys in the car started clowning Troy.
“Bria, you know you fine as hell,” the driver told her.
“Marcus, don’t even start, ’cause you know me and Stephanie is friends. And you know I’ll tell her everything that you say to me.”
“Girl, why you tripping?” Marcus asked.
“Where is Brianna’s fine ass at?” J-Roc asked.
Bria shrugged. “I don’t know; what I look like, her keeper or something?”