Forever a Hustler's Wife (15 page)

CHAPTER 19

Repast

A
t the repast, Des was outside trying to get his mind clear when Slim joined him. Slim put fire to a freshly rolled blunt. “Man, you good?”

“I’m fucked up fo’ real, but I’m holding on.”

“Damn, I wish he would’ve called me.” He passed the blunt to Des, who hadn’t smoked weed in years.

Des took a pull on it as he watched Emma slide off and hand an envelope to the preacher who had given the eulogy. The preacher kissed Emma on the cheek and held her hand a little too long before watching her sashay off. As soon as he thought no one was looking, he counted out the money down to the last dollar. He smiled and whispered a soft “Amen.”

“Look at that nigga,” Des said as he passed the blunt back to Slim. They watched as the preacher looked both ways before he crossed the street and got into his Bentley.

Slim shook his head and exhaled smoke from the hydro through his nose into the air.

“Did you hear that shit that motherfucker was feeding those people?”

“Yeah, I peeped it, but did you check out how they was falling for that shit?”

“You know what, my nigga, while listening to that lame game, I started thinking, maybe we should trade our triple beams in for a Bible.”

“That shit might not be a bad idea.” Slim laughed a bit.

“It’s legal money and tax-free, I think.” Des looked up at Slim with a smirk while Slim laughed.

“Let me in on the joke,” Rico said, walking up from behind.

“Ain’t nothing.” Slim offered Rico some of the blunt, but he declined. Slim put it out by the rubbing the tip on the wall of the building. “I’ma go back in there and get me some of that good food,” he said, giving Des and Rico some privacy.

“I’ll be right behind you,” Des called out to Slim.

As Yarni chatted with Rico’s wife and daughter, she wished she had a pill to help her escape the grief and pain of Nasir’s death, but she knew that Des would never stand for it. Ever since she had told him about the pills, he had been watching her closely, which only made her crave them more. She looked over at Des and realized he was deep in conversation with Rico, which gave her a good chance to slip away. Even if she couldn’t get a Percocet, she figured she’d be able to find something in the medicine cabinet to help take the edge off. Just as she was about to walk off, Des looked at her.

She walked over to him. “Baby, you need anything?” she asked.

“Naw, I’m good. Where you going?” he asked suspiciously.

“Nowhere,” she said defensively. “I saw you looking at me, and I just wanted to check on you.”

“I’m good. Thanks.” He kissed her on the cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she said.
So much for that idea,
she thought.

Des turned back to his conversation.

“Brother, I don’t know what to say,” Rico said, giving him a hug. “You know Nasir was like a nephew to me, too.”

“There’s nothing to say.”

“If it’s any consolation, that cocksucker Bam-Bam’s family will be carrying flowers and picking out caskets, too.”

“Appreciate it, man,” Des said softly.

“If you or the family need anything, I’m here.”

Des wanted to speak more with Rico, but he got distracted when he spotted Lava sitting alone outside, just staring into space. She looked as though she had lost her best friend. “Hold on, man. Let me go holla at shawdy.”

He went over and sat beside Lava. At first he’d had his doubts about her, but she had proven her genuine love and loyalty to Nasir, so that made her family. “How you holding up?” he asked.

“It still really hasn’t sunk in with me yet. I can’t believe he’s gone. He was my best friend and damn near my only friend.”

Des took a deep breath and put his arm around her. “We’re all going to miss him.”

Her head was still down. “I know. He didn’t deserve that shit, Uncle Des.”

“I know he didn’t.” He paused. “I just found out that the nigga who did it is dead.”

“Who?”

“That motherfucker Bam-Bam.”

Lava was quiet. Des was expecting her to respond, but she didn’t. They both were silent for a while. “Do you trust your instincts, Uncle Des?”

“Yeah, I do, and I seem to come up late only when I don’t follow them.”

“What if I told you something that nobody else would believe?”

“What you getting at, Lava?”

She changed the subject. “Did that lady who works for you tell you I called?”

“Khadijah? No, she didn’t. When did you call?”

“I don’t trust her either,” she said, totaling ignoring Des’s question.

“What did she do?”

“Nothing to me. I just don’t trust her.”

Des could see that the stress was getting to Lava, so he tried to pacify her the best way he could. “I know you’re kinda out of it right now, and your mind is all over the place, and rightfully so, but you’re going to be okay.”

“Will I?” she asked, her eyes filling with tears.

He hoped she wasn’t on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

“Look, Uncle Des, this is hard for me to say because I’m between a rock and a hard place. I know I’m new to the family, and why would you accept my word over those you’ve known for years.”

Des gazed at her and could see that Lava’s emotions were running amuck. “Why would you feel like that?”

“I want to be blunt with you, but it’s so hard.”

“No time for riddles. Just say what’s on your mind,” Des said, starting to get impatient.

Lava took a deep breath. “My position right now is hard.”

“Just calm down and tell me what you want me to know.” Des reached out and touched her hand.

“Uncle Des,” she said, drawing another deep breath from the bottom of her stomach, “Nasir was my everything, my life, my love. He protected me like a big brother but loved me as only a man can love his wife.”

He nodded, with a wry smile on his face, and Lava asked, “What’s funny?”

“He felt the same way about you.”

She smiled. “Being close to you and Yarni means a lot to me because you were the people closest to him.”

“Lava, as long as you don’t do anything to disrespect Nasir’s name, you will always be a part of this family.”

“I will never do that,” she said, and it was clear she meant every word. She took a deep breath. “Straight up, I don’t trust Felix.”

Maybe she had already suffered a nervous breakdown, Des thought, although he didn’t care, he still asked to make conversation. “What did Felix do to you?”

“I think he had Nasir killed.”

“What would make you think that?”

“I don’t have any cold facts. It’s just my intuition, and the last thing Nasir said to me was to trust my instincts and…that Felix, he’s a rat.”

CHAPTER 20

Hurricane Katrina

H
urricane Katrina coverage dominated the airways. Yarni cried as she witnessed people being treated as less than human, packed on bridges and inside the Superdome with no way to get out of the city. Some were separated from loved ones and didn’t know if their family members were dead or alive.

“Why do reporters keep calling them refugees, like they’re immigrants?” Yarni asked, folding her arms in disgust.

“Because that’s the way they feel about us. This is a white man’s country,” Des said, staring at the television screen, watching a man pick up a loaf of bread floating in the putrid waters that had flooded the city’s streets. The news kept showing footage of African Americans going in and out of stores and taking supplies—calling them uncivilized thieves and looters. Des got up and kissed her from behind. “This shit is ridiculous. When the white man goes in the store and steals, he’s simply providing for his family, but when the black man goes in and does the same thing, he’s looting. What kinda shit is that?”

“What’s even more appalling is them saying they can’t get people out of the houses, but that’s bullshit,” Yarni said. “They don’t
want
to get people out!”

“No shit.” Des nodded his head in agreement. “If it was Beverly Hills or Miami, they would be flying in with gold-plated helicopters, plucking folks off the roofs and giving them gift baskets filled with fruit or champagne. There’s several ways they could’ve rescued those people.”

“How you figure?” Yarni asked, never taking her eyes off the television.

“Look, baby,” Des started, “they should have flown in with the police helicopters and used the search beam to see if people were in the house. Then, all they would have to do is shoot the house with a paint gun, and the rescuers on land could go to those houses and rescue the stranded people. Quick and simple. I don’t know why they doing that door-to-door shit.”

Half listening to Des after watching a family cry because they had nowhere to go, Yarni asked, “Can we take in a family?” Her heart went out to all of New Orleans’s displaced residents.

“Hell no!” Des was quick to say. “I mean, I feel sorry for all those folks, but we don’t know those people. We could be letting a potentially dangerous person around our baby. There was crackheads before Katrina; they still crackheads after Katrina. There were child molesters, rapists, and serial killers before Katrina; they still child molesters, rapists, and serial killers after Katrina.” Des shook his head. “Uh-uh, I ain’t even trying to put you and Desi at risk like that.”

“Well, what about our rental properties? Can’t we put a family in one of those?” Yarni asked hopefully.

“What are we going to do, evict the people already there?” Des responded reasonably.

Yarni sighed. “Well, we can just donate some money?” she said, more a question than a statement.

Des laughed as he kissed her. “Slow down, Mother Teresa.” But he thought about what she said. Getting donations wasn’t a bad idea. There was plenty of money to be made off this type of stuff. One man’s bad luck could be another man’s good fortune.

Yarni smiled before she turned back to the television. “Come look. Now they’re leaving people on the bridge.”

Des sat beside his wife and watched the Katrina Special Reports for the rest of the evening. He considered an idea that had been going around in his mind for a while, and for some reason he couldn’t get Lava’s words about trusting her instincts out of his head. His thoughts were interrupted when his boy Slim called.

“Man, I’m trying to get shit in order so these bitches can take their rides tomorrow,” Slim said through the phone receiver.

“What’s the problem with the three cars we been using?” Des asked, switching the phone from his left ear to his right.

“Khadijah somehow can’t find the keys to one of them. She didn’t have the time to really look for them, though, because she was trying to get out to see Ahmeen earlier. The other two need tune-ups, but my girls gotta hit the road tomorrow. I need you to give me another car to loan out.”

“I’ll be there,” Des said, hanging up the phone and then dashing out of the house, glad to be away from the real-life drama being played out on CNN.

Although he was relieved to be away from the Hurricane Katrina madness, as he drove he couldn’t help but think of the behind-the-scenes hustling and come-ups this catastrophe presented.

When Des arrived at the shop, he could tell that Slim was irritated. “What’s da deal?” Des asked, giving Slim a pound.

“Just tired of these bitches, that’s all,” Slim responded as he plopped down on the sofa in Des’s office.

“You?”

“Naw, bad day, but they ain’t gon’ faze me.”

“You ready to change your grizzle?” Des asked.

“Yo, it’s whatever with me; as long as I ain’t selling my asshole or my soul, I’m down.”

A small grin came across Des’s face. “I’m about to change the game.”

“Nigga, what you saying? We’ve been innovating the game for years,” Slim said, sucking his teeth.

Des looked in his eyes. “Not like this, we haven’t.” The wheels were spinning in Des’s head now.

“What do you have in mind?” Slim knew when Des had that look in his eyes, it meant one thing and one thing only…money!

Des paused for a minute, figuring he’d allow Slim to brace himself for the blow he was about to throw his way. “You ready to be one of my deacons?”

“Man, you lost me on that one,” Slim chuckled, a puzzled look on his face.

“I’ma ’bout to preach the gospel.” Des flashed a devilish grin.

“Huh?”

“We are about to start a church, and I need you to be one of my deacons.”

“Shit, nigga.” Slim began laughing. “If the money right, I’ll be God himself.” Slim sat on the edge of his seat. “Fill me in on the details.”

“Okay, but first, cut that blasphemy out. You know it ain’t but one God, and that’s me.”

Later that evening, once Des had had a chance to run his idea by his wife, Yarni wasn’t as accepting as Slim about the idea.

“Have you lost your mind?” Yarni screamed. “You know you haven’t been called into the ministry. Why would you play with God like that?” Yarni stormed around the bedroom before turning to Des and calmly saying, “Des, you’ve gone too far. I can’t be a part of this.”

He walked up to her and wrapped her in his arms. “Baby, I’m doing this for us. How much more legitimate can I be than to be in the ministry? Who knows, God might even rub off on me,” he joked.

“That’s not funny,” she said seriously, turning from him. “You can play with people, Des, but don’t put God in your mess.”

“I’m sorry,” Des apologized. “Look, I didn’t realize you would be so bothered by this. If you don’t want me to, I won’t start this church.” He kissed her and walked to the bed, where he sat down and dropped his head in his hands. “I just wanna make a good life for you and Desi,” he said quietly. “Baby, hustling’s all I know. This is the closest to being legit that I can get.”

Yarni sighed and sat beside him. No, she wasn’t in favor of Des using the church for financial gain, but no matter what, she had always been down for whatever when it came to her Des, and nothing in her heart, nothing in her soul, would allow her to stop now. “I don’t agree with what you’re doing, Des, but I always have your back. Promise me it won’t all be about the hustle. Promise me you’ll do good work, too,” she said.

“I promise,” he vowed, really meaning it.

Des was never one to marinate on an idea, so he quickly put together a plan for the new church he was starting. Over the next month, Des hired a street team to visit beauty salons, barber shops, community centers, and all points in between, to hand out flyers about the new church. He wanted to appeal to people from all walks of life—encouraging them to come out and save not only their own lives but also their community. He knew people were going to be angry, hurt, and upset because of how the residents of New Orleans were being treated, and they would want answers. Or better yet, a savior. Everybody sitting at home watching the uncalled-for, preventable tragedy felt useless and wanted to be able to do something to help, or at least to make them feel they were making a difference so that they could sleep at night. Well, Des was providing them with that opportunity in the Good Life Ministry.