No More Mr. Nice Guy (14 page)

I entered Phil's barbershop on Straight Path in Wyandanch, stepping right into the barber's chair. My boys Fred and Pooh posted up in two chairs on either side of the shop, while Shorty stood by the door.

“You want the regular?” Eddie, my barber, checked as he tied a smock around my neck to catch the hair. I'd been coming to Phil's ever since I was six years old. My moms would drag me down there every Saturday so he could cut all my hair off. Back then Phil, the owner, was the only barber. Funny thing is, I ain't let Phil touch my hair since he fucked up Majestic's fade when I was thirteen, but me and his son Eddie have been strong ever since.

“You know what?” I told him. “Take just a little more off the top. I been so busy I can't get here as often.”

“Okay. So how's Majestic holdin' up? I was real sorry to hear about his brother. Please send him my condolences,” Eddie said.

“Yeah, he took Rodney's death real hard. It's tough for him not being around for his family, especially at a time like this, but he's all right. Quiet as it's kept, his sentence just got reduced. He'll be home sooner than you think.”

“That's good. Real good. Folks start to act up when they think they can get away with it. I'm glad he's coming back. Hell, you two are my best customers,” Eddie gushed.

Shit, when Majestic was out, Eddie would clear the shop whenever we came in. Of course, the way Majestic tipped him made it worth it. We could talk business in the shop, and nothing ever got out. Eddie was a real stand-up guy.

“Yeah, he's gonna need your skills as soon as he's released. You know he likes to keep it together,” I said, giving Eddie a fist bump.

“Hell, all the pussy that guy gets, I don't blame him.” He laughed. “Don't want to have it in your beard and shit.”

We both looked up when a disheveled woman in her early forties came into the barbershop. Shorty stopped her, but we could both hear her getting loud with him. Raised voices always caught my attention. You had to be ready in case some shit jumped off. Shorty, convinced she wasn't a problem, left the woman and came over to us.

“Yo, that lady says she needs to talk to you, Bruce. Something about she knows who really killed Rodney. What should I do?” he asked me.

I glanced in the mirror at Pooh, who was waiting for my response. I nodded, and Pooh sent Shorty over to retrieve her. Girlfriend looked tired, like she had just aged a decade. She had bags under her eyes, and they were red and puffy-looking, along with a real sadness. She looked like she might be on that shit.

“Ok, ma, what's this about you knowing who killed Rodney?” I already knew who killed Rodney, but I wanted to hear her out. I raised my hand to tell Eddie to give me a moment before I addressed this crazy-looking bitch.

“That I can't say, but I know who didn't kill him, and that's DaQuan Braithwaite,” she said. Her voice was a bit shaky, like she was fighting to hold it together. I glanced at Shorty, giving him a
What the fuck is this shit?
look.

“Is that right?” I sneered, about to tell her to get the fuck out of my face, but no matter how old I got, I didn't like disrespecting women that were close to my mother's age.

Immediately her expression hardened. “You fucking killed him, didn't you?” she screamed, making me sit straight up in the barber's chair.

“I didn't kill Rodney!”

“No, you killed DaQuan. Everybody knows that, and the whole damn block is talking about it. Said you blame him for killing that boy Rodney that lives over on Eighteenth.”

“I hear you. Now, do you have any proof, or are you just coming at me with some bullshit rumors? 'Cause I can't do nothing about rumors!” I said, returning her glare. She was really starting to piss me the fuck off.

“Well, for your information, that was three weeks ago, and my boy could not have killed nobody three weeks ago,” she insisted.

“Look, I know how it is. No mother wants to think the worst of her own kid, and you're not any different. I'm sure that since your son was dealing drugs, there were a whole lot of people who wanted to see him dead. Drug dealers make a lot of enemies in their line of work.” I turned to Shorty. “Will you get her the fuck out my face?”

I turned away from her. At least that way she could slink out with some semblance of her dignity.

“But my son was not around that day. He wasn't. I swear!” she shouted, grabbing my arm desperately to get my attention.

I snatched my arm away and turned back to her. “What you try'na say? 'Cause you ain't said nothing that makes me convinced that your son is the only innocent dead man in Wyandanch,” I snapped at her. “How can you be so damn sure that your drug dealing son wasn't a murderer?”

“I know because he was stuck on Rikers Island. They caught him with some weed, and it took me over a week to get the money to post his bail. Rodney was killed on the eighth, and my son was locked up on the seventh and didn't get out until the tenth—the same day you killed him. So it couldn't have been him.”

She reached into her waist to grab something and came out with a pistol. Shorty jumped up and snatched the gun out of her shaking hand. It made her fall back and down to the ground. I was about to get up and stomp the bitch, but Eddie raced over, grabbing the woman up then putting on quite the show.

“You crazy bitch! What the fuck is wrong with you? Trying to kill somebody in my place of business. Get out! Get the hell out of here! And don't you ever come back! You stupid whore!” Like I said, he put on quite the show, and probably saved her fucking life. I'm just not sure if he did it for the woman's sake or the sake of his shop, but he shoved her out the door.

She left, but not before turning her attention onto me one last time. “You murderer! You will pay for this!”

I pointed my finger as I eased back in the chair. “And you better leave before your ass is joining your son, bitch!”

“Morning, beautiful.” Niles awakened me with a gentle kiss on the lips after a phenomenal night of sex, which can only be described in further detail as epic.

“Good morning.” I kissed him back, opening my eyes to take him in. He was standing there looking sexy as hell in a fluorescent green-and-black tank top and black running shorts. “How long have you been up?”

“I don't know. Probably since around five. I wanted to get in a workout and a run on the beach before we head home.”

I stared at him in amazement. A run and a workout after the work we put in last night. Damn, I really was dating Superman.

“Does this mean we gotta go home?” I groaned, hating that our fantasy vacation weekend was ending so soon.

Niles had surprised me with a weekend getaway to a luxury resort on the edge of Montauk. Now, don't get me wrong; I'd been to nice places before, but no place compared to this.

“We can come back anytime you want. Just say the word,” he told me.

“Promise?” I wanted to pinch myself that I was here with this guy telling me it didn't have to be a one-shot deal.

* * *

He ordered a room service breakfast and then took my hand. “C'mon. Let's take a shower.” He led me into the bathroom, then into the shower, and of course, we made love. By the time we'd toweled off and were wrapped in our thick white robes, the busboy arrived with our breakfast. One bite of the Belgian waffles and lobster hash, along with a taste of Niles's steak and eggs had me fiending for our next visit.

“I want to take you somewhere special,” Niles said cryptically. It didn't matter where, as far as I was concerned, because at this point, I would go anywhere with him.

He led me out of the room and down the stairs of the beachfront hotel, and in a moment we were walking barefoot on the sand. I was feeling like someone out of one of those romantic movies. The entire weekend had been perfect. We barely talked as we strolled the private beach, taking in the beauty of our surroundings.

I played the details of our weekend over in my head. I couldn't believe that I lived ninety minutes away and had never come out here. I assumed only the rich got to enjoy this place, but Niles had reminded me earlier that the view was free. It didn't take nothing but a car and some gas to get here.

“Um!” I closed my eyes for a split second so that when I reopened them, the view would be even that much more electric. “I could stay here forever.”

“Yeah, me too.” He tugged on my hand. “It's this way.”

We began to walk up a path to a place called the Wellness Center. For a minute I thought it was some kind of spa, until I noticed that it was a fancy medical facility. Niles led me through the building and down the hall, stopping outside a room. He opened the door, and the first person I saw was Willie, sitting next to a window. Jesus, did he have some kind of breakdown? Poor Tanya. I wondered if she knew.

“Where's . . . Ma!” Niles called. Before Willie could say anything, Niles's mother came out of the bathroom. Even though it had been years since I'd seen her, I would have recognized her anywhere.

“Who's this?” She pointed to me. I moved further into the room to stand close to Niles, and suddenly I felt a little self-conscious.

Willie answered for Niles. “That's Keisha. You know Keisha. She was a friend of Nia's when they were in high school. You remember?”

She motioned for me to come closer.

“Oh, yeah. I remember you. You were that nice girl, but your mother was a hoochie-mama,” she said. She had insulted my mother, but it was weird because her tone was so kind, like she didn't even realize it was a rude thing to say. I didn't take offense, because I knew that Niles's mother had some issues, but I also knew she had a good heart.

“I'm sorry to hear about Nia,” I said. “She was a nice girl. Sometimes, especially where we come from, people are just waiting to take advantage of nice girls. It wasn't your daughter's fault. She just fell in with the wrong crowd and we lost touch.”

She placed her hand over mine. “Honey, I'm glad you got out all right,” she said, and my heart broke a little. As much as I loved my mother for being my mother, she was nothing like Niles's mom.

“Yeah, I think your son is glad, too, from that smitten look on his face.” Willie chimed in, making us all laugh—except Niles.

“So, you like it in here?” Niles checked with his mom.

She took a look around. “Well, if I had to be in one of these places, this is the nicest one I've ever seen. The food is real good, and the doctors come and see me every day. I see the same doctors every day, so I don't have to keep explaining my case. That's real nice.”

“Good. I'm happy. As long as they're treating you well, that's all I want. Willie, can I talk to you a minute?” He excused himself, and then the two of them stepped outside.

“So, tell me, Keisha. You like my son as much as he likes you?” Niles's mother came straight out and asked me.

I nodded. “Yeah, I like him a lot. He's different than the other guys I've dated. A real gentleman,” I told her.

“Yeah, he's always been special,” she agreed, but not like she was bragging on her son, just telling the truth.

“Yeah, and he's real good with my son, too.” I gushed about him, but I couldn't help it, because that man had my nose wide open.

“You have a son? How old is he?”

“MJ is five. He's the love of my life.” I pulled out my phone and scrolled through to show her pictures.

“That's a cute boy. Reminds me of Niles at that age. I'm glad. My son has always been so serious. He needs someone to remind him to slow down. Kids will do that.”

“Yeah, I like them together,” I said. “Can I bring you anything? I can bring magazines, books, food? Anything. I don't live that far away.”

“You just take care of my son, and when I get out of here, I expect to meet this MJ.”

Niles and Willie came back. “What are you two talking about?” Niles asked with a little playful suspicion in his voice.

Before I could answer, his mother spoke up. “We were having girl talk. I like her.” She pointed to me. “I like her a lot.”

Niles took my hand. “Me too, Mom. I like her a lot too.”

Willie rolled his eyes. “Keisha, you better not mess this up, 'cause my sister don't think anybody is good enough for her son.” He and Niles started laughing, and I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt this good.

“I want you to look at these pictures, pick out your target, and handle your business without anyone knowing you did it. Do you understand?” Bridget said sternly, handing me an envelope as we exited the car on Fourteenth Street.

I opened the envelope and glanced down at the pictures, memorizing the face of the individual before handing back the envelope. I'd been training with Bridget for almost three months now, and although I hated to give her credit, I'd be lying if I said she hadn't taught me a hell of a lot.

She instructed her driver to meet us a couple of stops away, so I followed her down into the crowded subway station and onto the F train platform. This was supposed to be my final exam from her one-woman boot camp. Pass this test and I'd be a full-fledged agent for the firm.

Once on the platform, I reached into my pocket and pulled out the pack of gum I always kept on hand. She furrowed her brow as I stuck it in my mouth.

“What the fuck's with you and the gum?”

“An old trick I learned as a sniper. It helps to keep me relaxed.”

She rolled her eyes, but I could already feel my blood pressure lowering as I chewed.

“So I can concentrate on the task at hand,” I said.

“You just better be ready,” she snapped. “I've got a lot of time and money invested in you, and people are watching.”

“I got this,” I replied.

She slipped me a clear dot affixed to a tiny slip of paper. “One dot, one target. Let's see if you can pass the test.”

I nodded at her then moved stealthily through the throngs of people, making a point not to connect with anyone as I looked for the mark. I took a seat on one of the newer-looking subway benches and searched the incoming crowd. It was still pre–rush hour, but in about twenty minutes, this place would be wall-to-wall bodies.

That's when I spotted him, a thirty-something blond man dressed in a smart charcoal business suit. He had two bodyguards who were close, and a third who stood about ten feet away. That one was supposed to be inconspicuous, but thanks to Bridget's training, he was anything but. I got up and slowly moved in their direction, freeing the dots from the paper. I had to admit it felt good to be very blasé about something that had stressed me the fuck out a few months ago.

Across the platform, I spotted Bridget watching my every move. Trying to ignore her, I moved across the platform, my heart beating fast. A moment ago I felt full of confidence, and now, with one simple look from Bridget, I wondered if I could pull this off. Shit!

Out of the corner of my eye, I took in the target and everyone around him, especially the two bodyguards.
You can do this, Niles,
I told myself. Shit, I had wiped out a room full of men holding military grade weapons, so a little dot should have been nothing. With every step, I reminded myself of who I was and why I was doing all this. During my military career, I had accomplished missions that dwarfed this simple task, yet I was still worried about completing this one successfully. Mostly, my ego couldn't handle Bridget thinking I was an incompetent.

Shit, shit shit!
From the way he was eyeing me, it looked like the third bodyguard had spotted me coming. He would be easy to take out, but that wasn't the mission. One dot, one target.

I scrambled to come up with another approach, and then it came to me. It was time to play tourist. I headed for the bodyguard instead of the mark, which seemed to surprise him.

“Excuse me. Do you know if I'm on the uptown side of the tracks?” The bodyguard stared at me for a moment, probably assessing whether I was a threat, and then nodded. “Good. Thanks,” I said then stepped in front of him. Now I was between him and the other bodyguards, but still not close enough to the mark.

“One minute,” I heard someone say as the overhead sign flashed the amount of time left before the next train would be arriving at the platform. That gave me less than a minute to do this, or else they would be gone and so would my chance. At that moment, an attractive woman passed in front of them. I took that opportunity, swiftly planting my mark on the back of my target's neck just as the light of the train peeked through the tunnel.

I turned back to the third bodyguard. “Hey, you know where I can get a newspaper around here?”

He shook his head and scowled at me, clearly annoyed.

I walked away, toward the newsstand on the other side of the platform, then I looped around and returned to Bridget, happy as a mofo, until I heard a woman let out a blood-curdling scream.

“Somebody call a doctor!” a man shouted. “Is anyone a doctor? This man needs help.”

I turned to see what all the commotion was about, but my arm was suddenly jerked in another direction. My muscles tensed, because my instinct was to protect myself from whoever had grabbed me, but I turned to see that it was Bridget tugging at my arm.

“Let's go,” she commanded as the train arrived at the station and total chaos ensued. She handed me something that looked like an aspirin. “Take it. Take it now!”

“Oh my God, I think he's dead!” another woman with a Spanish accent screamed.

“What the fuck is going on?” I kept looking back to see, and she kept jerking my arm, pulling me in the opposite direction, toward the train.

“Don't worry about him. He's dead. Now, take the fucking pill unless you want to join him.” The look she gave me told me everything I needed to know, so I did what I was told.

We got on the train, and as it pulled away and passed the commotion, I saw that the dead man lying on the platform was the mark I had placed the sticker on. His three bodyguards were looking around, confused. I turned from the man to Bridget, who looked completely unfazed, as if she had nothing to do with that dead body.

“That man is dead. I killed him, didn't I?” I whispered.

She nodded her head.

“Fuck! I thought this was a test.”

“It was a test. You passed.” Bridget smiled, her voice smooth as butter as she calmly led me off the train at the next stop and out of the station, as if the shit that had gone down was all in my imagination.

I couldn't understand how she could remain so emotionless. This wasn't the same as being in Afghanistan, where you had a clear image of the enemy, who was most likely aiming a weapon at you or holding a grenade. At the very least, you knew your enemy belonged to a terrorist organization that wanted to kill Americans. I knew absolutely nothing about the man in the station; he was just a guy waiting for a train. He could have been completely innocent. I had no information about him to inform me one way or the other, and it had my head spinning, wondering what the hell I had gotten myself into and how, or if, I would be able to get out of it.

Her car and driver sat at the curb waiting for us. Winston had already gotten out and had the door open by the time we reached the Rolls. Once we were inside, I turned to her, ready to let her have it.

“What the fuck was that? You set me up for murder again!”

She held up her hand to silence me while she addressed her driver. “Winston, can you roll up the window and put on the music?”

Once the divider was firmly in place and reggae music piped through the car, Bridget turned to me.

“So tell me?” I shouted, not willing to play anymore of her games.

“First off, when there is another person present, you are never to assume that they are privy to the same information as you. You keep your mouth shut until I tell you that you can speak! Do you hear me?”

“This was fucked up, even for you, Bridget.” I looked down at my hands. “How come I'm not dead? I touched the sticker.”

“Because the toxins in the poison take longer to penetrate the tough skin on your hands. Eventually you won't have to take a pill. You'll build up immunity to it, like me.”

“I doubt it.”

She gave me a smug grin then picked up her iPad and hit a few buttons, like this shit happened every damn day.

“What the hell are you smiling about?”

She lifted up the iPad and turned the screen toward me. “You just got fifty thousand dollars deposited into your account. Congratulations.”

“Did you even know that guy? Was it some fucking joke to you?” I seethed, wondering what kind of fucked-up psychopath I had gotten myself entangled with. “Bitch, you must be out of your mind. That was an innocent man.”

Just saying that word out loud made me realize that this situation had really gotten to me. I hated to call a woman the B word, and yet I couldn't think of a more suitable title for Bridget at that moment.

“Let's get one thing straight. Do not call me a bitch again. You will not like the results. And that man you're freaking out about because you think he's so innocent? Let me assure you that Mr. Hannes Baumgartner is not some regular guy. He's a German terrorist here to cause major damage to our infrastructure. His little tour of the subway wasn't because he wanted to go across town. See, Germany wants America to lose all its allies, while pretending to be almost as neutral as Switzerland. You may not get it at this moment, but you will soon learn that nothing I do is done lightly or haphazardly.”

My blank stare was the only response I could supply. What I did understand was that I had crossed the line from trainee to full-fledged paid killer, and like it or not, there was no going back.

“Well, maybe you'll get this.” She handed me a knapsack.

“What's this?”

“Look in it.”

I opened the knapsack and then looked to her for an explanation before I would remove the contents.

“Those are all the files the cops had on you—and the gun with your prints. They're yours. I'm giving them to you.”

I took out a folder and the gun, glancing at her skeptically. “Why?”

“Because you're good, probably the best this agency will ever see when you're fully trained. I know this is hard to believe, Niles, but I want you to be my partner, not my hostage. Partners have to trust one another. You can't trust me if I'm holding this over your head.”