“Don’t let them kill her.”
Josh nodded and headed out of the office with Phil following close behind.
“I told you he wasn’t going to kill us.” Josh smiled.
“So, what’s next?” Phil asked.
“We make those assholes our new best friends.”
“What?”
Josh stopped and turned to his partner. “They are after this money. With a couple of FBI agents hanging around, they’re going to get really anxious about trying to get it. They’re going to be desperate to make their move, and they’re going to do something careless. And when they screw up, we’re going to nail their asses to the wall.”
“And the girl?”
“They can’t touch her with us around.”
“How are we going to pull this one off?” Phil asked. “They aren’t just going to open their arms and allow us to just hang out with them.”
“We become part of the new Federal Vice Task Force.”
Phil laughed. “There’s no such task force.”
“That’s never stopped us before. Besides, we know that, but they don’t know that. Wherever they are, we will be. I want that bastard Cleaver to make his move.”
G
Quadir strolled into the living room and plopped down on the couch. He had just completed an intense workout session in the gym, and yet he still found himself stressed out. Usually working out relaxed him, but today, no matter what he tried, Gena was on his mind.
He had always been there for her when they were together. And he always did whatever was within his power, not just for her, but also for everybody around him. Back then, he could throw money at the problem, he could send some of his boys to fix it, or he could take a quick trip out of town to unwind and relax. None of those things was within his power to do now.
He knew that Gah Git was on Gena’s mind. She had always occupied a special place in Gena’s heart. Whatever was happening there would be key to making Gena’s troubles go away, or at least easing them. And Bria-whatever was going on there would probably work itself out. Teenage drama usually fades with age. And last but not least, the money. Gena had the money, and he knew that she was using it. Whatever problems she had involving money, she was certain to have fixed those by now. The only issue she could be stressing over with the money was whether to give it back. She was probably wondering what she would do if she gave it back.
Quadir leaned back on the couch and began to massage his temples. I wonder how Cherelle and Quanda are doing. He had sent his mother to Cherelle to make sure they were okay. Believe it or not, Viola was without a doubt absolutely one hundred percent convinced that Quanda was her granddaughter. And she was nothing but a skeptic, especially when it came to her son.
“Quadir, you can’t really believe that this baby of this girl’s is yours. She’s just looking for a handout. Forget about these chickenheads out there and stay focused, son.”
For months and months, Viola had preached the same old sermon, until one day she decided to go off on her own and pay Cherelle a visit.
“Can I help you?” Cherelle asked, standing at the door with Quanda at her side.
“Are you Cherelle Byrd?”
“Who wants to know?” asked Cherelle, not volunteering any information.
“I’m Viola Richards, Quadir’s mother. I’m looking for Cherelle Byrd.”
“Oh, my God, come in, please. I’m so sorry, I didn’t know who you were.”
Cherelle opened the screen door for Viola and welcomed her into her first-floor row home apartment. She only had one bedroom for her and Quanda to share, but her apartment was clean, Quanda was clean, and it was clear that Cherelle did the best that she could do for herself and her daughter. She had a sofa and a chair and one floor lamp facing a twenty-eight-inch television sitting on a stand, a small kitchen, an even smaller dinette set, a bathroom, and a bedroom.
“I found your name and address among Quadir’s personal things. I tried calling but the number was disconnected.”
“I’m glad; I’m glad you came by here,” said Cherelle, all smiles, feeling a sense of acceptance for herself and her daughter from Viola. She had yearned to be accepted ever since the birth of her daughter, not only by Quadir, but by his family as well.
“Look, Quanda; look who’s here to see you,” said Cherelle, introducing Quanda to her grandmother.
“Hi, baby, let me take a good look at you,” and Viola meant that shit in every sense of the word.
“This is your grandmom,” said Cherelle.
Viola looked piercingly at Cherelle, not appreciating one bit being introduced as the child’s grandmother. That fact remains to be proven. But the more she looked at the child, the more she saw her own son when he was just a toddler.
“I’m not Grandmom; I’m Granny. You call me Granny, okay?” she said, embracing the little girl as she picked her up and placed her on her lap. “Granny is going to take you shopping and buy you all kinds of toys and clothes, and you and I are going to go to church, how’s that?”
Viola looked up and saw a big smile on Cherelle’s face. From that point on, there was a bond and a relationship between the two women. Cherelle got exactly what she had always hoped for-Quadir’s family’s acceptance for her daughter-and Viola got what she wasn’t expecting, a granddaughter. By the time Viola was done, she had made up her mind that her grandbaby would never want for anything. From that day forth, if Cherelle needed something, the Richards family had her back.
Quadir smiled as he thought of his mother, Cherelle, and his daughter spending Sunday mornings at church together. He thought of Gena, and the happy smile on his face slowly faded. He could see her now, absolutely disgusted. He could hear her, too.
“Are you crazy? You let your mother throw me to the fucking wolves, while she does everything in her power to make sure Cherelle and your baby are hunky fucking dory?”
Yup, that’s about how it would sound. He had decided that just as with Gena, he would have to take care of Cherelle also, once he got his money back. And, of course, Amelia. Gena and Cherelle would both be fine as long as they didn’t try to live like rap stars. A million dollars was enough to buy a decent house and car. They would have enough to pay their bills, and Gena could even finish school. She could make a nice life for herself. With a million dollars, Gena could even look out for her grandmother and the rest of her family. God knows, she wouldn’t have to work. And just to show how decent he was, he’d put up a million, just in case she needed more at a later date. Maybe ten or twenty years from now, he would shoot her a second mil ticket. That should definitely hold her.
Amelia breezed through the front door.
“Hey.”
“Hey yourself!” she said, tossing her keys onto a Bombay chest in the foyer. She sat her briefcase down next to it, strolled into the living room, and kissed Quadir on his cheek. “Whatcha doing?”
Quadir shook his head.
“Why so glum?” she asked.
“Just doing some thinking.”
“About?”
“Money, Gena, all of that stuff.”
“You seem to never stop thinking about her. Actually, it seems as though she’s the only thing you ever do think of.”
Quadir peered up. “How do you figure?”
“Oh, Quadir, please. It’s true.”
Quadir looked away. He wasn’t quite sure what he was supposed to say. In a way, Amelia was right. She was all he thought of, her and his money. He often wondered whether, if she didn’t have his money, he would ever have thoughts of her.
“You know I didn’t tell you this, but remember the night you brought Gena here? Well, when I examined her, I realized that she had suffered a miscarriage.”
“She was… pregnant.”
“Yeah, she lost the baby, though. I guess Jerrell beat her so bad, she lost it.”
Silence fell and a look of despair fell upon Quadir’s face.
“Are you okay?” Amelia asked.