Animal (10 page)

“It ain’t always about what somebody can do for you, Pam,” Fatima told her.

Pam reared her head back. “Why isn’t it? Listen, my sister used to always tell me that if a man couldn’t do anything for you, then he wasn’t worth keeping around for more than the occasional nut.”

“I guess that’s why ya sister got four kids by four dudes,” Fatima capped.

“Bitch, don’t go there with all the brothers and sisters you got floating around. No disrespect, Fatima, but I heard when your dad was running the streets, him and his crew was knocking everything down with a pulse,” Pam laughed, but Fatima didn’t.

“Fuck that nigga,” Fatima said.

“Wow, y’all still beefing?” Pam shook her head. She knew the history between Fatima and her father. “When you gonna let that shit go?”

“When that nigga is in the ground,” Fatima said seriously. “Don’t get ghost and then come back in the ninth inning and expect us to be the Cosbys. I ain’t trying to hear that shit.”

Her father was a touchy subject. Her mother had been little more than another conquest to a hustler named Cutty whose name used to ring off, and he made it apparent by not bothering to take an active role in Fatima’s life. Cutty would drop money off every so often, but other than that, the only time Fatima saw him was when he came through to smash her mother. When she was about six, Cutty went to prison for murder, among a slew of other charges, and was supposed to never see the light of day. Due to a technicality, he was released after serving just over ten years. By then, Fatima was already a young woman and set in her ways so when Cutty finally came around to play daddy she rejected his efforts. As far as she was concerned, she didn’t have a father.

Pam knew enough not to press Fatima so she switched back to their original topic. “So let’s talk about you and Ashanti . . .”

“Ain’t no me and Ashanti,” Fatima cut her off. “All I said was that he could get it!”

“It ain’t
what
you said, but
how
you said it. I know you, Fatima. I know that look,” Pam told her.

“What look is that?”

“The love-struck schoolgirl look.”

“Get outta here,” Fatima waved her off. She picked up her drink and took a sip so that Pam wouldn’t see the
busted
look that had just spread across her face. “And let’s say if I did have designs on Ashanti, why would that be wrong, because his paper ain’t up?”

“That and the fact that that li’l nigga is dangerous,” Pam became serious. “Fatima, I got mad love for Ashanti, probably more than most because that li’l nigga got heart! But at the same time, I know a rabid dog when I see one.”

Fatima rolled her eyes. “Ashanti ain’t even that bad. I know he does dirt, but who doesn’t?”

Pam shook her head. “You have no idea where I’m coming from, do you? Fatima, you on it like that because you’re just meeting Ashanti since he’s been fucking with King, but do you
really
know the nature of the animal you’re dealing with?”

Fatima was silent.

“A’ight,” Pam continued, “dude is younger than me but we ran in some of the same circles. I was fucking with his man Brasco.”

“Why does that name sound so familiar?” Fatima racked her brain.

“Because he was Animal’s best friend,” Pam helped her along.

“Animal, the rapper?”

“No, Animal the mass murderer. Now stop cutting me off so I can finish my story. Like I was saying, me and Brasco had a thing, and it looked like it was gonna get serious so he introduced me to his brothers, Animal, Nef, and Ashanti. I knew they wasn’t real brothers, but it still felt special that he was introducing me to people close to him. Brasco treated me better than any guy I’ve ever dated, but I had to back up off him.”

“Why?” Fatima asked, now caught up in Pam’s story.

“Because when they let me into their inner circle, I found out that I wasn’t dealing with men. They were monsters, and some of the shit I’ve seen still gives me nightmares. They were killers with baby faces, and the most ruthless of their crew was Animal. That was the first man I’ve ever met whose eyes were just empty. It was like somebody had just cut the lights out in his soul. All y’all li’l chicks know the rapper, but I know the demon who lives where a young man’s soul used to reside. And when I look at Ashanti, I see that same dead look in his eyes. That boy has been molded in Animal’s image. When I saw that King had put Ashanti down with his crew, I knew that it was about to be all bad.”

“You act like Ashanti is evil or something,” Fatima said, reflecting on what her friend was telling her.

“Not evil, baby, just broken,” Pam said. “Ashanti is the last of a dying breed. Most dudes talk about how gangsta they are, but kids like Ashanti are willing to die to prove it. He’s street poisoned.”

“Maybe all he needs is to find the right antidote,” Fatima tried to reason.

Pam snorted. “Boo-boo, no matter how good of a chick you
try to be to a kid like Ashanti, you’ll always be in competition with that other bitch.”

“What other bitch?”

“Death, ma. Death is his mistress, and despite your best efforts, she’ll always be waiting in the wings for him.”

Before the conversation could go any further, Fatima’s cell phone went off. She looked at the number, hit ignore, and put it back in her pocket.

“Who that you looping?” Pam asked.

“That ain’t nobody but King James. He been blowing my phone up since I left earlier,” Fatima told her.

“He’s probably mad that you didn’t come back to finish your shift,” Pam said.

Fatima rolled her eyes. “Like I give a fuck. He should’ve thought about that before he tried to style on me. That nigga was trying to talk to me like I was one of his workers.”

“Technically, you are,” Pam pointed out.

Fatima cut her eyes at Pam.

“Hey, don’t shoot the messenger. I’m only keeping it tall with you, Fatima. There are a lot of people eating out of King’s hand right now, and to keep them in line, he has to be stern with everybody, including his fake baby sis,” she nodded at Fatima. “You know this game is all about appearances, and if you let one person slide, then you’ll have everybody testing your authority.”

“But I ain’t everybody, Pam. Me and King go back to when he was James King, running around trying to get a dollar like everybody else. We got history!”

“If y’all got history, then you of all people should know what it took to put him where he is and respect the things
he has to do to hold that position. Everybody has to be held accountable. Playing favorites in this game can get you murdered, ma.”

“Whatever,” Fatima waved her off. But she digested everything Pam was telling her, and even agreed with her to an extent, but wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of saying so.

“Speaking of paper chasers,” Pam changed the subject, “I knew I had some fresh gossip to tell you. You’ll never guess who I’m hooking up with tonight.”

“Well, don’t keep an asshole in suspense; spill it!” Fatima said excitedly.

“Girl, Young Dance!” Pam confessed excited.

“Young who?” Fatima was confused.

Pam slapped her hand against her forehead in frustration. “Young Dance, the rapper.”

“The cutie from Fifty-third? Bitch, you lying!” Fatima squealed.

“I put that on my kids,” Pam declared. “Me and my homegirls went out one night to celebrate her birthday, and Young Dance happened to be performing that night. He took one look at me in that tight red dress and caught the vapors. He tried to slide with me that night, but I put him on pause so he didn’t think I was a ho or nothing.”

“I am
so
sure,” Fatima said sarcastically.

“Shut up and let me finish,” Pam scolded. “Anyway, we exchanged numbers and been playing phone tag for the past week or two, and he asked me to come hang out with him tomorrow night. I think Big Dawg got something going on downtown so you know there’s gonna be money in the room.”

“Money and killers,” Fatima scoffed.

“I know you ain’t passing judgment when you’ve got a crush on a junior serial killer,” Pam teased her.

“Fuck you, Pam,” Fatima laughed.

“But on the real, come out with me, Fatima.”

“I dunno, Pam. My bread ain’t really right,” Fatima said.

“C’mon, ma, you don’t need no bread. All we gotta worry about is getting to the spot. Once we in the building, everything is on Dance. You know how I do.”

Fatima was still hesitant. “Maybe I’ll just play the block, and we can hook up when you come back.”

Pam looked at Fatima as if she had lost her mind. “Play the block? Fatima, you
always
play the block. Yo, for as long as I’ve known you I can’t ever recall you ever traveling outside of Manhattan. The world is gonna pass you by if you keep thinking like that.”

Fatima rolled her eyes. “Pam, don’t even go there because you spend as much time in this hood as me, if not more. You been in this hood all your life.”

“And look how my life turned out because of it. I got baby daddy drama, my kids drive me up the wall, and I can’t get a decent job to save my life, because I spent all my good years on the block accepting what life gave me instead of seeing what else it had to offer.”

“I know, but sometimes I just feel like I’m gonna miss out on something when I leave the hood,” Fatima admitted.

Pam reached out and touched Fatima’s hand. “Fatima, I don’t wanna see you as just another washed up broad out here like the rest of us bitches. The only thing you’re gonna miss out on by traveling outside the hood is the same bullshit that goes on every day; somebody getting locked up or murdered.”

As if on cue, a commotion broke out a few feet away from where the girls were sitting. Biz, the young dealer who King had been chastising earlier, had just made a sale to a random fiend on the avenue. As soon as he did, the doors to the Direct TV truck King had been warning them about all day flew open and out jumped several undercover police officers who swooped in on Biz. The youngster put up a good fight, but the police eventually swarmed him and tossed him, kicking and screaming, into a paddy wagon.

Fatima looked from the throng of police to Pam and shook her head. “You might be right; maybe it is time for me to get outta the hood for a minute.”

Pam smiled. “Now you’re talking, baby girl. Now you’re talking.”

TEN

“F
RANKIE
A
NGELS, YOU HEAR ME TALKING TO
you?” Cutty nudged her. He clutched the steering wheel of his black Excursion in one hand and a blunt of sour in the other. His cold eyes constantly scanned the slow-moving afternoon traffic on the 1&9 North, headed for the Holland Tunnel.

“My bad, I was daydreaming,” Frankie told him. Her attention had been fixed on the skyline of Jersey City. She admired the waterfront buildings in the distance and wondered if she would ever have a place that nice to call her own.

“See, that’s your problem. Your head is always in the damn clouds instead of on this money,” he scolded her. It seemed like every time Cutty spoke he was scolding her, even when he wasn’t. That was just his way. Cutty was an old-school cat who had recently been sprung from prison, but he still had a mess hall mentality.

“Nigga, you tripping. My mind is always on my paper.” Frankie rolled her pretty brown eyes. She was a pretty cinnamon-complexioned girl with beautiful long black hair, which
she, that day, wore pulled back into a tight bun showing off her attractive features. “Now pass the weed with your stingy ass.” She plucked the blunt from his hand, accidentally dropping ashes on the jumpsuit she was wearing. It was a skintight number that gave you a rare glimpse of Frankie’s well proportioned frame.

They were making their way back from an all-night caper they had pulled out in Union, N.J. For the last few weeks, Frankie had been making time with a young Greek gentleman who was the manager of a car dealership out that way. She wasn’t really into foreigners, but he had long paper and was dashingly handsome. He was olive skinned with wavy black hair and movie star good looks. For all his good looks, he had the personality of a rock. The Greek felt because he had money women should worship him to be rewarded, so she did, and he fell hard for her. What the Greek didn’t know was that he was just a means to an end. Frankie had fleeced him for a copy of the keys to the car lot, and while he was out spending his money on her, Cutty and a few of his boys were making off with his cars. Cutty already had buyers for them at different chop shops in Newark and Elizabeth, so the flip would come back almost immediately. It was a sweet lick. Frankie felt kind of bad for stringing him along like that, but at the end of the day it was business. It was always business when it came to getting money with Cutty.

“You speak to Jada?” Frankie picked up. “I know she’s probably worried or
suspicious
being that we’ve been gone all night.”

“Nah, but Jada cool,” Cutty said as if it was nothing.

Frankie twisted her lips. “Cutty, you been out all night with another woman and you ain’t bothered to call your lady. Don’t
you think she’s gonna be a little pissed? Hell, I’d be waiting for your ass with a pot of hot grits when you came in.”

Cutty looked at her. “Let me tell you something, li’l one. Jada is a soldier, so she’s gonna be okay. I taught her to be as cold as ice and put nothing above this money, which is what I’m trying to instill in yo’ young ass.” He snatched the blunt back.

“I still think you’re wrong for not calling.” Frankie folded her arms over her nice-sized breasts.

“Well, I guess it’s a good thing I don’t give a damn what you think. You know, Frankie, you’ve been getting pretty damn lippy lately, and I don’t know how I feel about it. We been getting a nice piece of change together so I fuck with you hard-body, but let’s not forget that your ass is still in my debt,” he reminded her.

Frankie looked down at her lap. “Nah, I didn’t forget,” she said barely above a whisper.

Not so long ago, Cutty had fronted Frankie some drugs to make money when she and her roommates were in danger of getting evicted. Frankie had never been a drug dealer, but in her desperation she had no choice but to adapt and make the best out of it, which she did. In almost no time, she had not only made Cutty’s money back but had a nice piece of change for herself. Things looked good for her until a dude from her hood named Scar and a few of his goons kicked her door in and attempted to rob her. They beat Frankie to within an inch of her life, but she didn’t go down without a fight. She managed to shoot two of them before she blacked out, but when she woke up she was in the hospital and being charged with double homicide.