Hood Lemonade Jamika's Vendetta (15 page)

He started in his serious voice, “Things are going really slow with Daddy Dee. We’ve come up with another plan. My sis wants to work on a single with you. She wants you to sing a hook and some fill-ins over some rap lyrics. She’s bringing Daddy Dee in to do some beats. This will all start at the beginning of the month. The three of you are going to be spending some long days together. At this point, a full confession isn’t needed. We just need the slightest clue of him and the drug scheme. We’re working on a setup now, and we’ll let you know as it goes down.”

Will continued, “We’ve been following him, and the brother has been squeaky clean these past few months, we got to step it up a little.” 

“I just hope we get him. I don’t want to go back to prison. I really don’t, Will,” Jamika said softly.

“Something will give, Mika. Just keep doing what you’re doing. You’ll be getting paid for this thing with Juicy. She wouldn’t have it any other way. If we do pull this thing off, you just might make it to stardom, after all.”

“Do you think so, Will?” Jamika asked, hopeful.

“I know so. There have been some really influential people in the music industry asking about you,” he said.

“You know, this has always been my dream, to be a singer. I love it more than life itself.”

“I know you do, Mika. Just remember that sometimes dreams do come true,” he said softly, yet sternly like he believed in her more than anyone else ever had. Jamika smiled at Agent Conner and realized more than ever, that he was really a good guy. He was human; he had feelings.

“Well, I better go meet Tray.”

Jamika walked to the door and opened it, she turned back to look at Agent Conner. He didn’t belong in the FBI. He was too honest and good of a brother, his heart was too warm, and he was damn sure too fine. “Yo Will,” she yelled out to him.

“Yeah.”

“Thank you.”

Jamika and Tray went to The Caves, an expensive, romantic restaurant near Ft. Lauderdale Beach. Each booth inside was secluded, just like a little cave, yet very comfortable. The waiters and waitresses dressed like cave men and women. Each cave was illuminated by a little lantern. The plates and silverware, although elegant, resembled dinnerware that could have been made years ago.

The conversation had started with the uniqueness of the restaurant, and the wine and entrées they would order. Then the reminiscing began. “So, how’s Ms. Peggy?” Jamika asked.

“She’s fine. She’s working as a nurse over at Beth Israel Hospital. I can’t believe you remembered my mother’s name,” Tray said, impressed.

“How could I forget; your mother did not play.”

“Yeah, your mom used to let us get away with a lot more. How is she, by the way?”

Jamika took a sip of the fine Chardonnay before answering. “She died about two years ago.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know. If you don’t mind me asking, how did she die?” Jamika took another quick sip of the wine, and hated the direction in which the conversation was going. She thought about it, and came to the realization that she really didn’t know exactly how her mother had died. She knew that her mother had HIV and abused drugs, but no one had disclosed to her how Felise had actually died. “Actually, I do mind, Tray. It still bothers me.”

“I’m sorry. So who’s the lucky guy in your life?” Tray asked, effectively changing the subject.

“There isn’t one.”

“Come on, as good as you look? There has got to be a Mr. Lover somewhere.”

“No. I’ve been burned a few times, you know. My guard is way up.”

“I can understand that. You still have needs, though.”

“I have been celibate for almost two and a half years now. These hands are used in beautiful, creative ways. I love these hands.” They both laughed. The waiter arrived with their dinner salads and hot, freshly buttered rolls.

“So, what punk has you so hurt that you don’t want to enjoy the benefits of the touch of a man?” Tray asked.

“I’ve just been through a lot, that’s all. Enough about me, what about you?”

“A woman? No, I’m not ready for a woman at this point in my life. I’m still taking some classes and trying to get where I need to be,” Tray stated.

“I guess that’s understandable, you have to take care of number one first.”

“But, I would like to have a woman companion, a friend. You know, someone to talk to and have fun with, like we did when we were little.”

Remembering them as kids brought back good thoughts to Jamika. Thoughts of a simpler time. Times with no worries. Well, almost.

“Do you remember that night we snuck to drink beer and saw that lady get raped and beaten?” Jamika asked.

“How could I ever forget that? Do you know that lady went crazy after that?”

“No. damn, you never know what cards life is going to deal to you,” Jamika said. They both grew quiet at that comment, as if they were each looking into their own lives and evaluating it. The silence seemed so natural; it felt as if the fifteen-year separation hadn’t changed their bond.

Their main entrées arrived and finally, Tray spoke again. “I can’t believe we are sitting here together. I always wondered what happened to you. I thought I’d never see you ever again in life.”

“Well, I thought our friendship was special too; you see I still got that raggedy ass quarter after all these years.” They both laughed.

“Well, let’s not let this be the last time. Let’s hang out, see if we can be as good together in adulthood, as we were in childhood,” he said.

“I don’t know, in childhood you were always getting me into shit,” Jamika joked. “Yeah, I think back now, what the hell were we doing at that age all around crazy ass Newark?”

“My memories of Newark are limited, guess because I left so young. Raised here, this is home,” she said.

“You think your life would have been different if you’d stayed in Newark?”

“Well, my dialect maybe, but I tend to think most things in life are destined.”

They both grew quiet again as if examining their own destiny and the eerie coincidence of the two of them sitting there together having dinner, having found each other accidentally, as if somehow pulled together by a centrifugal force, after all of those years.

Chapter Nineteen

Jamika sat in the studio room of Juicylicious’s penthouse apartment and looked out over beautiful Miami Beach. Juicy was just as down to earth and fun as she was on her albums. Jamika felt honored to be in the studio with her.

Both of Juicy’s albums had gone triple platinum. The single that they would be working on would be the first released from her junior album.

Jamika was at the piano pecking notes and matching her voice to them, when Deonte, the man that she once fell in love with, entered. Juicy put down the pencil she had been scribbling lyrics with to greet him. “What up, Dee? Aye, this new song gon’ be hot. Oh yeah, this is Mink; you probably recognize her from some of the openings where your girls performed.”

“Oh yeah, she has a beautiful voice, good choice, Juice. Nice to meet you, Mink,” he said, extending his hand out to shake Jamika’s. “Well, we won’t need her today, will we? I mean, we’re just laying tracks and shit,” he said, noticeably uncomfortable.

“Yeah, but she’s new to this. I like her; I want her to see all the work this shit really takes. She’s a good writer too. She may have some input; you know?”

He hesitated for a second, then replied, “A-ight, it’s yo show. I brought over some tracks I’ve been working on. All Daddy Dee originals, so you know they hot.”

“Okay, let’s do this. You can play them over there,” Juicy said, pointing towards a computer amongst her recording equipment.

Daddy Dee took a compact disc from the case he’d been holding under his arm. The first track came alive through the computer’s speakers, as the trio listened closely. Jamika had an urge to pick up something and beat the hell out of him. But, she had strict orders to hang around, act natural, and work on the song. She’d begin setting him up for the big fall next week. This week was for trust building.

Today was a big day for her. She was sitting in a recording studio with two of the biggest icons in hip-hop. Juicy had promised Jamika a spot in the music video for the song, if she did not have to return to prison. Juicy was trying to get all the tracks out of Daddy Dee that she could, before he was taken down. She’d said previously that she wanted him to see how it felt to be used for his talent. Jamika knew that those tracks were imperative to the success of Juicy’s junior album. Daddy Dee’s beats had undoubtedly helped her other two albums reach the plateau that they had.

She’d invited Tray over to her apartment later that night. She was going to cook, and they’d watch a good comedy or suspense movie. In the last month, they’d been hanging out together whenever Jamika had free time. They’d been out to nightclubs, hung out together on South Beach, watched movies, went shopping, played video arcades, and much more. They still hadn’t tired of one another.

Jamika loved Tray’s company. She didn’t feel any sexual pressure, or like she had to behave a certain way around him. She could be herself and everything was fine. She was looking forward to being with him later.

Two hours later, Juicy and Daddy Dee had decided on a base track, and were contemplating overlays in certain areas to add more flavor to the track. They were discussing how they’d lay additional echoes and sound effects tomorrow. The first day to Jamika had proved to be both stressful and unnerving.

-----------------

Jamika placed the plate of seafood she’d prepared in front of Tray. The lobster tail looked succulent, and the shrimp scampi and scallops complemented the meal wonderfully. She’d added soft, garlic bread, with a tangy white wine that tasted more expensive than it cost.

Tray looked at it, surprised. “You cook too?” he said teasing.

“I can do a little something,” Jamika said.

“This is more than just a little something. I mean, if this tastes like it looks, then I’m going to have to go ahead and make you my woman.”

“Shut up and eat, crazy,” Jamika said, being thankful that she was dark-skinned so he couldn’t see her blushing.

They ate together and Jamika could not help but notice that something seemed to be bothering Tray. He wasn’t talking much and normally he was very talkative. “Is everything all right with you, Tray?”

“Huh?” Tray asked very distractedly.

“Are you all right?” Jamika asked a second time.

“Oh…um…yeah…I’m tight.”

“Are you sure?”

He seemed to be in deep thought. He then looked at Jamika with a serious expression, put his fork down, and started to speak. “Jamika, I just want you to know that you are a good girl, and nothing that happens to you is directly because of you. It’s all business.”

Jamika looked at Tray, confused. Fine sweat beads had begun to form above his brow.

“What are you talking about?” Before Tray could answer, there was a knock at Jamika’s door. Jamika wondered at who could be knocking on her door. Agent Conner had gone home for the night, and no one besides Tray knew where she lived. She’d told her family that it was such a dump; she was embarrassed to have them visit until she was able to fix it up some. The knock came louder.

“Are you going to answer that?” Tray asked.

“Uh…yeah,” Jamika replied, getting up from the table. She looked through the peephole, but did not see anyone. She pushed the front window curtains aside to look out; still she did not see anyone. “Nobody’s there.”

“Just open the door, and see who’s there,” Tray suggested.

“No, if they can’t show their face, I’m not opening my door.”

“I’ll get it,” Tray said, getting up and walking toward the door.

“No Tray. Just let them stay out there. We are having a good time here.” Suddenly, Tray pushed her aside with so much force that she almost fell to the floor. She heard the click of the door unlocking, and could feel the warm outside breeze filtering into her apartment as she struggled to regain her balance. She looked up to see Daddy Dee entering her apartment, giving Tray a high five, while congratulating him on his good work.

Tray quickly closed and locked the door behind him. Daddy Dee was walking toward Jamika. Jamika struggled to not look afraid. Before she could fully comprehend what kind of trap it was that she’d fallen into, Daddy Dee hit her in the head with a hard, blunt object. She fell on the couch and looked up to see that she’d been hit by a chrome, Smith & Wesson .357 Magnum. She felt the warm blood oozing from her throbbing head.

Daddy Dee was standing in front of her, holding the gun at point-blank range from her head. As Jamika looked down the barrel of his Smith & Wesson .357 Magnum, her life flashed before her eyes. She wasn’t that surprised that her life would end at the hands of a man. It seemed that both life and men have had a vendetta against her for as long as she could remember. She always seemed to be slowly hurling toward this end. Jamika knew that if he shot that gun, she would surely not have a chance at survival.

Jamika thought of the bug that she’d had in her hair since earlier at the studio. She knew Agent Conner had long since gone home, and wondered if there was backup surveillance on her. They hadn’t ever mentioned it, but she really hoped so.

“Man, you asked me to get this girl alone for you. I didn’t know you were going to blow her damn brains out,” Tray was saying, clearly alarmed by Daddy Dee’s violence.

“I am paying you a quarter of a million for this set-up. What did you think I was going to do, talk to her?” Daddy Dee said, irritated by Tray’s ignorance.

“Well, let me leave. I don’t want to see this. I knew her when I was a little kid, man.”

“Man, sit down and shut the fuck up,” Daddy Dee said angrily. Tray complied.

Daddy Dee turned his attention back to Jamika. “So, what’s been going on, Meek?” Jamika knew she had to choose her answers carefully. The wrong words could end her life.

“I thought you didn’t remember me, Deonte?” Jamika stated softly. She silently prayed that someone somewhere was hearing this. “Didn’t I tell you that my name ain’t no damn Deonte.”

“Sorry, Darrell.”

“It ain’t Darrell, neither.” Jamika decided to keep quiet and let Daddy Dee control the conversation.

“Meek, I really cared for you back then,” Daddy Dee started again. “You were really wife material. I really didn’t mean for you to get caught with that shit. We hid it well. But, you did get caught, Now, you’re home in…what has it been…two years? Do you think I am a damn fool? I will kill you before I let you bring me down. So, be honest with me and I may consider letting your ass live.”

Jamika knew that was a lie. She could see by the look in his eyes that he was going to kill her. Right here, tonight. She decided to stick to her story. “Dee, look I really cared for you too. Shit, I still do now. I would never do anything to hurt you. I was really happy to see you at the—” Jamika heard the gun as it was cocked.

“Oh well, you are still lying. I guess you don’t want to live,” he interrupted.

There was a banging on the door. Someone must have come for her. Agent Conner must have had backup surveillance on her after all. Daddy Dee hadn’t expected anyone to come to the door and felt uncertain as to what to do. The knock came louder. Daddy Dee held his index finger up to his lips to urge Tray and Jamika to remain quiet.

“Pizza Hut delivery!” the voice shouted from the other side of the door. Jamika knew that had to be the FBI; she had to get to that door.

“Look,” Jamika whispered, “I ordered that for my neighbor. Her husband put her on a strict diet, and she was craving it. She asked me to order that pizza and have it sent here. It’s going to get very suspicious, if I don’t get that pizza.”

The bang on the door came again, “Pizza Hut delivery!”

Daddy Dee thought for a moment and then said, “Okay, get the damn pizza, no funny shit.”

Jamika got up to walk towards the door. Daddy Dee pulled her by the arm. “Wait, go get your purse and tie a towel or something around your head, you’re bleeding.” The knock came again. “This is a persistent motherfucker,” said Daddy Dee, annoyed. “Let him know that you’re coming.”

“Just a minute!” yelled Jamika. Jamika wrapped her head tightly with a bath towel and grabbed her purse.

She opened the front door, and looked into the face of Mark Rosier. Jamika didn’t know what to make of this, but she knew that her life depended on making the right moves, right now. “That’ll be eleven dollars and eighty-one cents, Miss,” Mark said to her with a wink of his eye, while pushing his way into the apartment. Jamika stepped back a little to allow him in. Nervously, she began to fiddle around in her purse for the money.

Mark saw the two men seated in Jamika’s apartment. He noticed how still and attentive they sat. He was sure that Jamika was in some type of danger. He had started to look for Jamika about two months ago, when one of his letters was returned from the prison. He realized that she had been released. He’d found her almost mistakenly; he had gone to a concert and saw her performing as an opening act.

He had followed her and the bald one on many occasions going out on dates together. It made him a little jealous to see Jamika so happy, spending time with someone else. But he really cared for Jamika and wanted to make sure this guy was good. So he followed Tray and discovered that Tray was meeting with Daddy Dee, each and every time he met with Jamika.

Mark did not know what was going down. But he figured that Jamika was being set-up by these guys in some way. Mark knew the laws well, and knew that for the charges Jamika had, she was let out of prison too early.  That meant one of two things:  she either snitched on someone, or was helping the FBI get someone specifically linked to her personal case. Being the Jamika he knew; it had to be the latter. He couldn’t imagine her as a snitch. So these guys must have also figured that out. Mark had started to follow her and keep an eye on her, as he was sure something big was going down.

Since Mark learned where she lived, he’d been dying to see her, touch her, and talk to her. He’d missed her. He’d driven all the way over and sat in the parking lot for twenty minutes, trying to figure out how to approach her. As he sat there, he saw the bald guy Jamika had been going out with, pull up in the parking lot. Mark had reclined his seat back behind his tinted windows in order to remain undetected. Then, the other guy he always met with pulled in as well, and they had a brief conversation.

The other one sat in his car for a while and then went up too. It just looked strange to Mark. It didn’t feel right. He remembered the pizza uniform he had in his trunk that he’d used to gain entrance to a luxury, apartment high-rise to take pictures for a client on a case he was working. He quickly changed clothes, grabbed his Pizza Hut prop box and ran upstairs to bang on the door. He surveyed the situation as Jamika continued to fiddle for change in her purse.

The bald one was sitting closest to him on the love seat. The other one was sitting on the long couch, staring at him, visibly trying to remain calm. I have to do something, Mark was thinking. He was finished counting out the change and handed it to Jamika.

As he reached to take the twenty from her, he looked in her eyes. They looked frightened and lost. He thought of how long he had waited to look into those hazel eyes. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and never let go. He knew that if he did not act now, he might never see her again. Then, he saw it. A small circle of blood had begun to leak through the white towel she had wrapped around her head. They had already hurt her. They had hurt his Meek. Mark turned to walk out of the door.