Street Fame (19 page)

A task force comprised of state and local police and the DEA, was waiting along the Little Rock Road exit, looking out for a blue Chrysler 300, with a white female driver.

Mark Pratt, received a call. “Hello. Pratt speaking.”
“This is vice detective, Brad Thomas.”
“How’s it going, Brad? Haven’t heard from you in a while.” “Yeah, I know, almost a year.”
“What’s up?”
“Bad news.”
“What’s wrong?”
“One of your informants died. OD’d off X. Balloons filled with X

were discovered in her stomach.”
Ken Clarkson walked over. “What’s going on, Mark?” “Who?”
“Paige Howard.”
“Oh no!” Mark said.
“Yeah. She died on a plane inbound from Miami.”
“Dammit, man. That’s bad!” Mark said, sniffling. “How do they

know she OD’d?”
“What’s going on, Mark?” Ken Clarkson asked again. “Paige died.”
“How? When?”
“Yesterday. She was obviously smuggling X. It was found in her

system.”
“X?”
“Yeah. She died on a plane.”
“Do you think her boyfriend put her up to bringing the X back on

the plane?”
“I don’t know. Anything’s possible. Remember the time he had
her call in and give us a tip on the two girls so Paige could smuggle
the coke successfully?”
“Yeah. The guy is a real winner,” Ken said sarcastically. A uniformed cop approached Mark and Ken. “A Chrysler 300 has
been spotted about two miles away.”
“Hopefully, Morgan will have all the answers,” Mark said.

A state trooper in a blue Mustang pulled Morgan over. She looked at the man in disbelief when he told her she was swerving.
“License and registration please.”
“This is a rental.”
“Okay. Where is the rental agreement?”
Morgan opened the glove compartment but found no rental agreement. She checked the console but still no sign of an agreement.
“Hey, listen; I don’t know where the agreement is, but here is my license,” Morgan said, handing the man her license.
The tall trooper looked at the license, passed it back to Morgan, and asked, “Ma’am, would you step out of the car?”
Morgan looked as if she was about to cry. “Sir, what the hell is going on?”
A second trooper pulled up beside them, then an unmarked car pulled up. Mark Pratt and Ken Clarkson presented their badges.
Morgan started crying. “I don’t understand what’s going on?”
“Ma’am, we have reason to believe that you are trafficking ecstasy.”
“Somebody lied on me. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Why are you crying?” Clarkson asked.
“Because you’re just picking on me.”
“Do you mind if we search your car?” Mark asked.
“Hell no, I don’t want you to search my car.”
Ken opened the car door, popped the trunk, and searched two suitcases before finding an overnight bag. He dumped the contents on the ground. Thousands of pills covered the ground. “Let me guess: You have a headache and this is your medicine,” Ken said.
“Fuck you!”
“No, fuck
you
. We’re going to put you away for a long time.” Ken laughed.
Mark ordered the trooper to cuff Morgan.
Tears filled her eyes. “Don’t take me to jail. Please don’t take me.”
“It’s too late for that,” Ken said.
“Take the cuffs off her,” Mark requested. “Morgan, take a walk with me.”

Inside the red SUV, Mark and Morgan sat and talked. She told him how she started dancing after she left home. Morgan was from Connecticut and had attended community college but never completed school. She went to work at Hooters for two years and made good money, but was told that the real money was in exotic dancing; so she started dancing at Twin Peaks. Most of the patrons were rednecks and Mexicans with very little money. She found her home in the Uptown Carousel. It was a clean club and most of the girls were very pretty, and this brought the elite clientele—athletes, businessmen and, of course, the hustlers—all of whom had money to throw away. She had taken a liking to Paige because Paige had showed her the ropes, the ins and outs of the club, the customers with the money, and the ones who didn’t have. Morgan broke down into tears when Mark told her that Paige had died.

They found X in her system.”
“What?” Morgan looked surprised.
“Yeah, they found X in her system. She had swallowed three

balloons filled with pills.”
Morgan’s face was the color of a tomato. Her eyes were puffy.
She couldn’t control her crying.
Mark hugged her then said, “Morgan, it’s too late for Paige, but it
isn’t too late for you.”
“What do you mean?”
“I need you to help us bring Tommy, Twin, and JoJo down. They
are the bad guys. You hear me?”
Morgan looked Mark in his eyes. “Yeah, they are the bad guys.” “Now, I’m going to need you to get one of them on the phone and
tell them that everything is okay, and that you want to deliver the
goods.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Why can’t you do that?”
“I don’t want to get anybody in trouble.”
“Listen. Your friend is dead because of these guys.” Morgan wiped her face then looked out the window of the SUV. “I
can’t do it.”
“What do you mean? It’s your life here. Do you know there was a
girl who got busted last week with five pills and got a year for each
pill? You have thousands of pills and only one life.”
“I understand what you’re saying, but I can’t do it. I’ll just have to
get my dad to get me a good lawyer.”
“This case is federal. There’s nothing a good lawyer can do for
you.”
“I made my bed. I’m going to have to lie in it.”
“Are you sure you know what you’re talking about?” She thought about it. And thought about it. She wasn’t sure at all.
She would have to think long and hard about it on the way to the
federal building.

“Hey, Tommy, everything is okay,” Morgan said.
“How far are you away?”
“About three hours.”
“Three hours? You should be here by now. Are you sure everything

is okay?”
“Yeah, Tommy everything is fine.”
“Are you calling me from your cell phone?”
“Yes,” Morgan said.
“Your number never came up private before.”
“Tommy, would you like for me to call you again?”
“No. I’m just wondering.”
“Hey, Tommy, did you hear what happened to Jenny?” Morgan

said, trying to change the subject.
“No. What happened?”
“She died on the plane.”
“How do you know?”
“Her family called me and told me.”
“Damn, that’s a tragedy.”
“I hear that they found X in her system.”
“Is that right?”
“Yeah, she would often steal X from you guys.”
“Why are you talking like that?”
“Like what?”
“Talking about drugs and shit. I don’t fuck with no X.” “I’m sorry.”
“Hey, Morgan, you aint sounding right; is the cops with you?” “Hell no!”
“Call me back; I want to see your number on my caller ID.” Tommy

hung up the phone.”
Morgan turned to Ken and Mark. “Where is my cell phone?” “It’s with the evidence.”
“Can you get it? He’s suspicious.”
“Yeah, he’s smart.”
It took Ken five minutes to get Morgan’s cell phone. When he

entered the interrogation room, he handed it to her and she called Tommy again.
“Hello.”

“Did my number show up this time?”
“Yeah, I guess you must have been in a bad area.”
“Yeah, okay, like I was saying, where do you want me to come

see you?”
“I don’t know; I’ll call you back with that?” Tommy said then hung
up the phone.

JoJo’s number appeared on Tommy’s cell phone.
What the fuck does this nigga want? I done told his punk ass I don’t want to have nothing to do with him.
Tommy pushed the button to send him to voice mail.

This time Tommy answered. “Yeah, what do you want? I don’t fuck with you; Twin handles your side of the business.”
“I want to talk.”
“About what?”
“I want to talk about us, man. You know we’ve been friends too long to be at odds with each other over some bullshit.”
“Okay, stealing my woman is some bullshit?”
“Tommy, you want Nia to be faithful to you, but have you been faithful to her?”
“That’s beside the point.” Tommy hung the phone up.
JoJo called again.
“Hello.”
“Tommy, did you know that Jenny died?”
“Yeah, I know she died.”
“Man, we need to at least be on speaking terms before something bad happens to one of us.”
“Joe, man, this is it. After the packgage makes it, I’m off to Cali. You can stay here with your
wife.
You got her, buddy.”
“Tommy—”
Tommy hung up the phone.

Alicia called Tommy but he sent her to voicemail. There was simply too much going on right now to be somewhere cuddled up with her. A white woman had died—of an overdose of ecstasy. Ecstasy that he’d paid for with his own money. He figured the feds were probably checking her phone records to see whom she’d been in contact with. Hell, they knew she was Twin’s girlfriend. There was nothing good that could possibly come out of that. Tommy went home and changed his clothes. He wanted to go somewhere to think; he needed solitude. He wanted to go to the lake but decided against it when Twin showed up at his house.

“What’s up, Twin?”
“Nothing, man.” Twin began to pace.
Tommy could tell that there was a lot on his mind.
“I’m just so fucked up, man. You know I just can’t believe that my

baby is gone.”
“I know, right? I don’t know what to do, either. I mean, the other
white chick called me. She was acting real weird, saying shit she
shouldn’t have been saying on the phone.”
“Shit like what.”
“Suggesting that Jennifer stole some X from us.”
Twin’s face became serious. “Do you think she’s been busted?” “I don’t know, but she’s claiming she’s going to be here in three
hours.”
“She should have been here by now.”
“I know. That’s why I don’t know about meeting her. She knows
about Jenny.”
“How did she know that?”
“Says Jenny’s family called her.”
Twin sat on Tommy’s sofa. “Well, there is no way for me to check
that because her stupid-ass mom won’t talk to me.”
*****

Tommy was about to get in his car when someone called out his name. When he turned to see who was calling him, he recognized the man immediately. It was J-Black, the man who’d robbed him twice.

J-Black was smiling and holding a chrome handgun.
Tommy took a step back, still watching the gun.
“Let’s go back upstairs.”
“Hey, man, I aint got no drugs or money.”
“Nigga, don’t tell me what you ain’t got; just take me upstairs.” Once inside the apartment, J-Black ordered Tommy to stand to

the side with his hands on his head. “If you take your hands off your head, I’mma blast your ass.”
“I’m telling you, there ain’t shit in here.”
“Shut the fuck up,” J-Black said. He searched Tommy. “Okay, where is it?”
“What are you talking about?”
“The dope, nigga, don’t play dumb with me.” J-Black cocked the hammer of the handgun.
“Listen, man, don’t kill me. I’m telling you the truth; there ain’t shit here.”
A sudden hardness appeared on J-Black’s face. “Okay, where is that punk ass Twin? I know that coward done moved or something.”
“I don’t know where Twin is.”
“Oh, you trying to take up for this nigga? This is the same nigga that told me where the fuck you lived.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The first time I robbed your bitch ass for those bricks.”
“What about it?”
“Twin put me up on that, and we split the dough.”
“I don’t believe that.”
J-Black chuckled. “You’re a simple-minded nigga. Just think about it. First I rob you, then I rob your boy’s sister’s house, then I rob you again and nobody had ever robbed Twin. Why do you think this is so?”
Tommy couldn’t concentrate for a moment.
“So where the fuck is Twin?”
“I don’t know.”
J-Black placed the gun to Tommy’s temple.
Tommy’s cell phone rang. “I need to answer my phone.”
J-Black gritted his teeth. “No, nigga, you need to answer
me
. Where the fuck is Twin?”
Tommy felt the cold steel against his head. His whole life flashed before him—peewee football games, elementary school parties, high school dances, his mother’s funeral.
“I’mma count to three; if you ain’t told me where I can find Twin, I’m going to blow your fucking block off.”
“Hey, I don’t know but I can find out,” Tommy said anxious to punish Twin himself.
J-Black lowered the gun.
Tommy called Twin on his cell phone.
Twin answered on the first ring. “Yo, nigga, I’ve been trying to call you.”
“Yeah, what’s up?”
“On the news they are saying that Paige was suspected of being part of a large drug trafficking ring.”
“Shit.”
“Tommy, I called a minute ago to see if my wallet came out of my pocket when I was sitting on your sofa.”
“Yeah, it did. I can bring it to you where are you staying?”
“The Holiday Inn, Carowinds Boulevard. Room 417.”
“I’ll be over in twenty minutes.”

Twin opened the door and flinched when he saw J-Black pointing a nine-millimeter at his head.
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m here for what’s mine.”
“How did you find out I was here?”
“You got some really good friends.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I guess old Fatboy must’ve decided to give you up, since you gave him up.” J-Black shoved Twin inside and closed the door behind him. “Nigga, put your hands on your head.”
Twin complied.
“I need some money and I need it fast.”
“I ain’t got shit.”
J-Black slapped Twin with the butt of the gun.
Twin fell on the sofa holding his head. “I ain’t got shit, Black, I swear to you.”
J-Black stuck the barrel of the handgun in Twin’s mouth. “Pretend you’re sucking a dick, nigga.”
Twin gagged.
J-Black pulled the gun from Twin’s mouth.
Twin gasped for air.
“I want you to lick this gun like you’re licking the shaft of a dick, or else I’mma blow your fucking brains out.”
“I ain’t doing that shit.”
J-Black cocked the hammer back, turned his head sideways, and aimed. “You ain’t gonna do what?”
Twin stuck his tongue out then started licking the gun.
J-Black smiled. “Now that’s what I’m talking about, pussy-ass nigga.”
Twin’s saliva covered the barrel.
J-Black unzipped his pants and began to stroke himself.
Twin stopped. “This shit is disgusting. What are you, some kind of homo?”
“Keep licking the gun or else ...”
“I can’t do it. You’ll just have to shoot me and hope nobody at this hotel hears the shot.”
J-Black pulled the trigger.
The bullet entered the center of Twin’s face and tore through the back of his head. He was lifeless by the time he crashed face down on the floor.
J-Black began to feel nauseous when he saw Twin’s brain bits on the wall. He zipped his pants up. He hated the fact that Twin had provoked him. There was no time to search the hotel room. It was time to go.