Forever a Hustler's Wife (13 page)

“Don’t be like that, baby,” he said. He wrapped his arms around her and placed another kiss on her neck. He frowned when she pulled away from him.

Her voice was cold like a dagger and twice as sharp. “You can go back to where you came from. I don’t need you now.”

“I know you ain’t trippin’ because of the phone call,” he said, sitting up, trying to look at her face.

“It’s deeper than a motherfucking phone call,” she said, refusing to look at him.

Des was confused by her reaction, but then again she had been running hot and cold lately. “I know you ain’t jealous, baby.”

“I ain’t worried about no bitches,” she said, sniffling.

Her tears touched him as they always did. “Then, what is it? Is it that I’m back in the streets? Is it the late nights?” Des tried to get her to look at him, but she refused.

“For ten motherfucking years, while other bitches was sliding up and down poles, chasing behind niggas with the biggest knot in they pockets and God knows what else,
I
was on the highway en route to the penitentiary visiting yo’ black ass. I thought what we had was solid.” She shook her head and took a deep breath. “I take your carefree and reckless ways without question. I pick up the slack with our daughter when you’re out running the streets. The
one
night I need you, I mean when I
really
need you…” she sighed.

Puzzled, he reached to turn on the light. “Baby, tell me. What are you talking about?” He saw the blanket rise and fall from her heavy sobs. He tried to hold her once again, but she wouldn’t let him.

“You’re never there when I need you anymore.” Slowly, she tried to turn to face him, but her body ached all over, and she grimaced from the pain. “I know you love me, but I feel…” She sniffled again before continuing. “I feel like you’re married to the streets.”

“What? That’s bullshit. Why would you even say that?” he said. “You’re everything to me. You’re the frame to my picture.”

Yarni finally turned toward him. Des was shocked by his wife’s battered appearance. “Yeah, well take a look at this picture,” she said angrily. “Do you like what you see?”

“Who did this?” he whispered. He couldn’t believe what his eyes had revealed to him. Both anger and guilt consumed him at the same time. He reached out to touch her face gently, but she moved away from him. “What happened?” He shook his head. “Better yet, who the fuck did this shit to you?” He jumped out of the bed and reached for his pants.

“It’s not important now,” Yarni said sadly.

“It’s not important? Baby, I raise my hand to Allah, I’m going to kill the motherfucker who did this!” Des exploded. He went to his secret hiding place in their walk-in closet and returned with his gun, then checked to make sure it was loaded.

“That’s how I wanted you to react six hours ago when I called you, but you was too busy handling what you thought you needed to handle. Don’t worry about it now.” Yarni turned so her back was once again to Des.

Des was inundated with guilt. He put the gun on the chair and walked around the bed so he was facing her. He touched her face gently. Tears filled his eyes. “I’m so sorry, baby. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.” He took a deep breath, trying to control the rage growing within him. “But I’m here now, and you got my undivided attention. I want to know who did this to you,” he said as calmly as he could.

She closed her swollen eyes. “I had six hours to think this over, and it really doesn’t matter who did this to me since I was partly to blame,” she said quietly.

“What you mean, you were partly to blame? I don’t give a damn if it was all your fault. Yarni, just tell me who did this shit.” His voice grew louder as his anger soared.

“See, that’s what I am talking about right there. You never listen to me anymore. You want to kill niggas and ask questions later. Why don’t you try listening and paying attention to what’s going on around you for once?”

“What are you talking about?” Despite his rage, Des looked at his wife, confusion all over his face.

“If you’d been paying attention to me, you would have noticed that I’ve been popping pills as if I’ve lost my mind.”

“What pills?”

“It doesn’t matter. I dumped them all out.”

He was baffled and asked her again, “What pills?”

She took a heart-wrenching deep breath. “When I had Desi, the doctor gave me Percocet for my pain after the cesarean.” He nodded in understanding and she continued. “I never really took them because they made me feel drowsy and put me to sleep. But I still kept them in the cabinet just in case. Once I had to go back to work and you started keeping late nights, things just got crazy.” Des stared at her in amazement, finally starting to comprehend what she was saying to him. “I knew I had to be on point at work, but I couldn’t get to sleep. It started out with me taking a Percocet to help me fall asleep.”

“What?” he said, shocked for the second time that night. He considered himself an expert on human behavior, spending many years studying people in the streets and in the penitentiary. He was ashamed that he hadn’t noticed that the person closest to him was abusing pills and calling out for his help.

“I’m sorry.” The tears trickled down her face as she looked up at him.

He took her in his arms, and she tensed up from the pain, so he loosened his grip a little but refused to let go. “Baby, don’t worry. We’re going to work through this. You’re going to be okay, I promise.”

As he held her, he tried to analyze the situation. He thought about Yarni’s mood swings, her snapping at him—in hindsight the signs had all been there.

Tears formed in Des’s eyes once again as he pulled Yarni in closer. On the streets, if he misread an action or situation, the consequences could be fatal, costing him his life—or his freedom—but if he lost his wife, what was the point to living anyway?

Des swore on everything he loved, if it cost every dollar he made for the rest of his life, he was going to find out who had done this to his wife. And when he did, may God have mercy on that person’s soul, because
Des
sure wasn’t going to have any.

CHAPTER 17

Slipping

“U
ncle Des, I’m ’bout to go to the gentlemen’s club for that appointment I told you about, and I got a bad feeling. You feel like rolling with me? Lava’s sick with a stomach virus,” Nasir explained to Des.

“I can’t make it either. I need to spend some time with Yarni. We’ve got a little situation I need to deal with.” Des hated to have to turn Nasir down, but his wife would have to come before anything and anybody from now on. “Yarni is sick herself,” Des told Nasir.

“She okay?” his nephew asked with concern.

“Yeah, she’ll be okay,” Des responded. “Listen, if you got a bad feeling, then don’t go.”

“Naw, I’m good,” Nasir assured his uncle, who could hear Lava getting sick in the background. “I gotta go. Lava’s throwing up.” He ended the call and rushed to Lava’s side. “Here, baby.” He gave her a paper towel to wipe her mouth. Then he helped her get back into bed.

“Baby, don’t go. Wait until tomorrow so I can go with you,” Lava said weakly.

“It’s a seventy-five-thousand-dollar sale, and I ain’t trying to let that slip through my hands,” Nasir said, brushing her hair off her forehead.

“Boo, it’ll be there tomorrow.”

“But I gave the nigga my word. I’ma be in and outta there, I promise.” Nasir pulled the covers over Lava. “Now get some rest. I’ll be back before you know it.” He grabbed his keys. “I’ll call you when I get in the car,” he said to Lava as he was about to exit the condo.

“Wait, I’m going with you,” Lava said, trying to throw the covers off.

Nasir stormed back over to the bed. “No, you’re not. You need to stay in bed and rest. Baby, why you trippin’? I’ll be fine. You need me to bring you anything back?” he asked.

Lava shook her head and leaned back against the fluffy pillows of their king-size bed.

After making sure she was comfortable, Nasir headed to the door again.

“Didn’t you forget something?” she asked, struggling to sit up.

Nasir patted himself. “Nah, I’m cool. I got my piece.”

“I meant my kiss,” she said, puckering her lips.

Nasir grinned sheepishly. “Sorry,” he said, hurrying back over to the bed and pecking her on the forehead. “Get some rest. I’ll see you in a few….”

Lava nodded and lay back down. “I love you,” she said softly.

“I love you, too, baby,” he said looking at her before he left their home.

Redd’s Gentlemen’s Club wasn’t packed, but there was still a nice-size group in there. Almost naked women strutted around the club on the hunt for a big spender. Maybe it was the bubbly or the bling, but either way the money was definitely in the place. Some dudes stood by the stage throwing money like it was blowing from a fan while the women onstage tried to fulfill their every sexual fantasy.

There was a break in a song, and a new girl took the stage just as Nasir entered the club. As soon as he came through the door, it seemed like all eyes were on him. He was now known throughout town as a major player in the game, and the girls hoped he was there to trick some money off, so they ran over to him, practically swarming him. A Naomi Campbell look-alike, right down to her long weave, locked eyes with him. She would have to get in line with about six other strippers trying to lock him down for the night. Nasir waved them off and headed off to get a private VIP room in which to handle his business. The girls all hoped that one of them would be his choice for the night.

Bam-Bam walked up to Nasir before he could make it to one of the private rooms. “What brings you to these parts, partna?” He gave Nasir a brotherly hug.

“What else? Bitches,” Nasir lied. He turned to walk away, not wanting to be bothered with Bam-Bam. He had outgrown his connect a long time ago and was not about to walk down memory lane.

“I feel that. Why don’t you let me hit you off with Twinkle?” Bam-Bam said, motioning to a big-booty girl wearing a hot pink G-string.

“Naw, man, I’m good.”

“You sho?” Bam-Bam asked. His attitude toward Nasir had changed. He was more humble since the tables had turned and Nasir was the new man in charge. Now Bam-Bam was buying from Nasir.

“I’ma holla before I leave,” Nasir said, dismissing him.

“No doubt. We still meeting tomorrow, right?” Bam-Bam asked eagerly.

“Yeah, just call me,” Nasir said, waving him off like he was an annoying mosquito.

Bam-Bam extended his hand to give Nasir a pound. Nasir shook his head and laughed before returning the gesture. It was so funny how much things could change with time.

The private VIP room was small. One wall featured a two-way glass so that the people inside could see out but no one could see in. The three other walls had been painted black, and the furniture in the room was hot pink, black, and white snakeskin. There was a black coffee table with a few glasses and an empty ice bucket for champagne. Nasir placed his bag on the table, leaned back, and called Lava to check on her and let her know what was up.

“I just called dude, and he say he out in the parking lot, so I’m cool,” he said. Even though Lava wasn’t saying much, just knowing she was on the other end of the phone made him feel better.

He was startled when the door opened and in walked a big-booty stripper. Nasir looked her up and down and said, “Wrong room,” before returning to his conversation.

“No, it’s compliments of the lady sitting at the bar,” the woman said, standing so her butt was in Nasir’s face.

“No thanks, baby. I’m cool,” he said, trying to figure out what lady she was talking about. He shrugged and focused again on his conversation with Lava.

“But she already paid me,” the stripper said, refusing to take no for an answer. She proceeded to try to remove her top, but Nasir stopped her.

“Here you go.” He reached in his pocket and peeled off a fifty-dollar bill.

“Thank you.” She stuffed the money in her garter and smiled. “You a’ight wit’ me,” she said, adjusting the top of her outfit before she left the room.

“Baby, why you ain’t let her give you no lap dance?” Lava asked.

“Because I don’t want no sweaty bitch all on me. Why would I want her when I got someone like you at home?”

“That’s what’s up,” she said, smiling on the other end of the call.

They kicked it for a minute, then the door opened again. It was the Naomi Campbell look-alike.

“Thanks, baby,” Nasir said, figuring she was the one who sent the stripper. It happened all the time in strip clubs. Nice-looking women would send in strippers before they approached men they were interested in.

“For what?” the woman asked curiously.

“Sending me the dance.”

“But you didn’t enjoy it?” she teased, batting her eyelashes.

“I’m just not really into strippers like that. I’m just here to meet my man.”

“So can we hook up later?”

“Naw. I don’t think so. I got a girl at home,” he said. “Ain’t that right, boo?” he said into his Bluetooth headset. “Thanks anyway.” He returned to his conversation, imagining Lava was probably on the other side of the phone listening with a smile on her face.

“Too bad your girl ain’t got a man at home,” the woman said.

“What?” Nasir said, looking at her in confusion.

Instead of responding, the woman went into her bag, and, with the dexterity and swiftness of David Copperfield performing at the MGM, she pulled out a small banger with a silencer screwed on the end of it and fired eight times. Nasir sat there in shock. He had been taken down by a bitch and had never seen it coming.

“Oh shit. Baby, she got me,” he said as his chest started burning.

“What?” Lava said, not following the conversation.

“I’ve been hit,” Nasir said, gasping for breath.

“Nasir?” Lava said. “Nasir!” she screamed when he didn’t respond.

The mysterious lady left the room as smoothly as she entered and headed to the unisex bathroom. She tossed her wig in the trash, changed her contact lenses and blouse, and mixed into the crowd as Nasir lay on the sofa slumped over, bleeding.

“Nasir!” Lava screamed through the phone. “Hold on,” she reached for the house phone and called 911. “Please send an ambulance to Redd’s Gentlemen’s Club on Jahnke Road. Baby, are you there?” she said into her cell phone, but Nasir didn’t answer.

“Nasir, baby,” she cried out. “Baby, please, please answer me!” There was no response, but she could still hear the music in the background.

“Ma’am, are you at the club?” the 911 operator said.

“No, no, I’m not!” she screamed. “I was on the phone with my boyfriend, and someone shot him.”

“Do you know who shot him?”

“No, but I need you to stop asking me all these fucking questions and get an ambulance over to that club.”

“Ma’am, help is on the way. Are you still on the phone with him?”

“Yes, but he’s not responding,” she said before yelling into her cell phone again. “Nasir, baby, please, please, hold on, baby.” The phone went dead.

“Nooooo, noooo!” Lava screamed.

“Ma’am, what’s happening? Talk to me.”

“Please, please just get someone over there.” Lava hung up and slipped some jeans and a shirt on over her pajama tank top, grabbed her keys, and was out the door.

Lava sat patiently glued to Nasir’s bedside, silently praying, begging God not to take the only man she had ever loved away from her.
Lord, please spare him.

“Lava,” Nasir said, his voice barely a whisper. At first, she didn’t hear it. Then there it was again. “Lava.”

Her eyes opened. Indeed God was responding to her prayer, “I’m here, baby,” Lava said, grabbing his hand. “I’m right here.” She looked up for a brief second, thanking God.

Nasir’s breathing was imperceptible, almost nonexistent. But he knew he had to stay alive a little longer. He opened his eyes, and a smile became visible on his face. “Love…you…”

“I love you, too, Nasir,” Lava responded, tears running down her face. She was happy that he was at least talking and that he knew she was there for him. “God only knows how much I love you. I knew you would never leave me.” Lava waited a few moments for Nasir to speak again. Besides the humming from all of the machines that were connected to him, the room was as quiet as a monastery. “Nasir,” she called out to him.

There was no answer.

“Baby, please, stay with me,” Lava begged. “I know I sound so selfish right now, but I can’t live without you. Please, please, don’t leave me. I love you so much.”

Still no answer.

Then she heard him speak again. His voice even softer than before. “Where’s Des?”

“He’s on his way here,” Lava answered, wiping away her tears. “He told me to tell you that ’erything will be all right. He said just stay with us, baby, and he’ll take care of it all. Uncle Des is gonna make it all right again, baby. He’s on his way.”

Des was with Yarni when he got the call from Lava that Nasir had been shot. Hearing the news felt like someone had punched a hole in Des’s chest and pulled his heart out with his bare hands. If Des had been there for Nasir when he’d been growing up, maybe he could have guided him toward another lifestyle before the streets infiltrated his veins. If only he’d never given Nasir his blessing to expand…