The Versace League (10 page)

             
“I don’t know, but I need to find out. What do you need from me?”

             
“What’s her last name?”

             
“Patrice Santiago.”

             
“Okay, I’ll see what I can find from my home computer. You think maybe you can get something with her prints just in case she’s not in the system-you know just in case?”

             
“Shit, I know she not in the system under that name cause wasn’t shit found when I had Jamison do a search on her. Cortez had me fucked up talking about he was gonna start trusting bitches. But I’m a definitely shoot to her crib and see if I can get something and do this thing right. I need to holla at her anyway. I’ll stop by your house later,” Yamin said.

             
“Cool,” Katrina responded with a smile.

BUSTED BITCH

“Aye, you good bruh? You been quiet since we left the youngn’s house mane,” Manny said as he blew out a cloud of smoke.

            “Yea, got a lot on my mind,” Yamin responded. “You talk to Emmanuel? Everything good with the wifey?”

            “Yea, he said she getting on his nerves, but she good,” Manny laughed.

            “That’s my baby,” Yamin chuckled. Ever since the day of Cortez's funeral, he'd moved Jessica out to a temporary apartment that he had. He wouldn't dare take a chance of someone coming there while he was running the streets. If something happened to Jessica he wouldn't be able to forgive himself at all. Each day he realized how important she was to him. He couldn't wait for the moment when they would be able to redo their honeymoon and relax.

He really wanted to sit back with a few glasses and a few blunts and not give a fuck about anything. All he wanted was to return Ashley to her mom and just unwind. He needed time to grieve for the losses in his life. After losing Cortez, he realized he never grieved over the loss of his father. He jumped head first into The Versace League and hadn't looked back since. His father had been everything to him. He and his brothers were so lucky to have him being that a good seventy five percent of the boys in their hood didn't have a father around.

    Yamin thought about his father and the sacrifices he'd made for him and his brothers. His father, Hadir, a Haitian native had come to the U.S. along with his brother Alain in the early eighties. Their parents had been killed over some property and the two of them had no other choice but to flee in order to stay alive.

Somehow they were able to board a boat that took them to the island of Jamaica where they eventually ended up in Houston, Texas. They were hungry and poor and always found themselves begging for money and food outside of the Galleria Mall. They were parentless, young, and desperate, yet no one would help them.

       Day in and day out they camped out at that mall, right in front of the Versace store, looking for the rich and white folks to help them, but none of them would. They would look at Hadir and Alain and turn their noses up in disgust when all they wanted was a meal. Eventually things took a turn and they began to take what they wanted in order to get what they needed. It was then that they concocted a plan to rob a bank. Neither one knew how serious the other was until it actually happened.

       After the first bank robbery, The League was formed in the name of Versace. They wanted to prove to people that they weren't the trash that people perceived them to be, but yet rather smart and just as classy as the people they saw coming out of the Versace store. They had proven just that when they were able to rob bank after bank without so much as being suspects in a police interrogation.

      A few years later, Hadir met Clarice, and shortly after Yamin was conceived. She'd birthed three more kids with Hadir and died due to complications after giving birth to Cortez. Hadir became a single father that day, but he always had his brother Alain. They picked the family up and moved to Dallas, Texas where they purchased a nice sized brick home in a South Dallas neighborhood. It was the hood, but it was comfortable. That was how they loved it. As long as they were in the life they would live modestly and comfortably so as to not alert authorities or anyone else for that matter.

They would enjoy their riches in the end. Unfortunately for them, the end they dreamed of never came.  Hadir was brutally murdered and found in a back alley dumpster only a few miles from his home. A few months later his brother Alain had been arrested and charged with his brother's murder. It was supposedly behind some money, but that had never been proven. Although Alain claimed he was innocent and had been setup, he wasn't able to prove it in trial. It was something that not even their friend Judge Kerrison could assist with. It was so much evidence against him.

He was convicted and sentenced to 25 years to life. It was then when Yamin had taken over. It was his turn to take care of them like his father and uncle had always done. He'd done so well until now. He'd been slipping tremendously. He'd slipped so hard that he could still feel his self falling.

      Yamin shook his head and reached for the knob to the stereo turning the volume up to the max. He smashed down on the gas as he reached the ramp for I-35, pushing the speed limit to a quick 85. He nodded his head to Young Dro’s mix tape Equestrian Dro and allowed his mind to run rampant. He could feel his insides heating with anger as he thought about that bitch Patrice. He truly hated her. It went further than her gold digging ways, although he could never pin point exactly what it was-he just didn’t like her.

            After the background check that he had Jamison perform came back with nothing, he figured he was just being hateful but Yamin could spot a grimy bitch any day of the week. He only wished that he’d pushed harder for Cortez to leave her alone.

He wasn’t sure if Patrice had anything to do with Cortez’s death or not, but with all that was coming out he couldn’t help but feel strongly that at the very least, she knew something. The fact that she was stealing from Cortez after he’d confronted her about it, her clothes being missing from the closet and dressers, and what he knew had to be a mug shot on the computer screen only added fuel to his suspicion of her.

         An hour and a half later, Yamin pulled his ride into the driveway of Donica's home. The porch light was on and so were a few lights on the inside. He cut the engine and pushed his car door open. The moment he stepped his foot onto the pavement, his heart began to painfully pound against his chest. Some of the blood was still on the ground and it seemed as if Cortez was letting him know he was still there and wasn't going anywhere. After all the rain that had fallen from the sky in the days after Cortez's death, remnants of him still remained.

    Yamin looked toward the street and spotted the FBI surveillance van and an unmarked car a few houses down. He brushed them off and headed up the walk to Donica's house. He and the League were doing a better job looking for Ashley than they were. Katrina was too busy trying to get his attention every chance she'd gotten that he wasn't so sure if she had spent any time doing her job.

     Before Yamin could knock on the door it came open and Donica was standing in the doorway. She was wearing a pretty floral print dress and some brown sandals. Yamin noticed she looked a little better today than she had since seeing her at the funeral.

  
             
  "Hey Ya, come on in. Is that Manny? He's not coming in?" Donica asked. Her tone was flat with little emotion. She wasn't as sad as she had been, but more so zoned out. It almost seemed as if her soul had escaped her. Yamin surmised that it was normal because it was almost how he felt.

"Nah, I'm not staying long," Yamin said.

   
             
He stepped inside and closed the door behind him surprised to see that there weren't any agents on the inside of her home. For days they had been moving all around, touching everything and watching Donica's every move. Their presence was another reason his visits weren't as frequent as they should have been.

    "Can I get you anything to drink, Ya? Got some Crown or either some Ciroc," Donica asked as she crossed her arms over her chest.  She looked Yamin in his face and blinked back the tears she felt burning her eyes. Every time he'd been around her since the death of Cortez, he caused her to cry. He didn't have to say or do anything. It was his presence and his stature. The fact that he looked so much like Cortez did it for her every time. His height, smooth dark skin, and piercing brown eyes were practically the same as Cortez's. 

    
             
"I'll take some Ciroc and some orange juice if you have any," Yamin responded. As Donica walked into the kitchen, he rubbed his hands together and slowly paced back and forth. He wondered if Cortez had just stayed with his family where he belonged, would any of this have ever happened. Donica reminded him of his mother, although there weren't very many memories, he could remember how dedicated she was to his father and her family. She took care of home while their father handled business and Donica had been the same way. Cortez just didn't understand what he had or how good he'd had it.

  
             
"Here you go," Donica said interrupting his thoughts. He watched as she walked away to her living area and he followed behind her. She sat down on the couch and lightly crossed her arms over her chest. The TV was silently set to the local news and Donica just blankly stared at it. Yamin could tell that she was watching and hoping for updates.

   
             
   "I just wanted to let you know that we out here Donica. I got everybody looking for my baby girl Ashley," Yamin took a sip of the drink. "I went by my youngn's crib today looking for that financial info that we discussed, but I didn't see anything. I think he might have been hiding it from that bird brain bitch Patrice."

             
  Donica fixed her gaze in Yamin's direction but didn't say anything. Patrice was a name that she could go without hearing for the rest of her life. She blamed Patrice for taking Cortez from her and felt had he not met her, she could have had more time with him. She was still salty about Patrice slapping her and accusing her of having Cortez set up. She could have just as easily thrown those same accusations at Patrice, but it wasn't the time to play the blame game.

       "So I'm a call up the lawyer and see what he got going on. He most likely got all that on file somewhere. At least I hope Cortez handled that correctly. Look, what I really wanted was to come through and see what you knew about Cortez and Patrice," Yamin looked at Donica and she quickly shot her stare to the floor. He'd noticed how hard it had been for her to look at him lately and he understood. He'd heard all his life how Cortez was his splitting image. All three brothers shared major characteristics of course, but Cortez and Yamin were damn near twins.

   
             
  "What do you mean? Know what about it?" Donica asked defensively.

 
             
    "Shit, while you and baby bruh was laid up, he never discussed their relationship? Was they having any problems? Did he tell you anything?"

      
             
Donica was surprised. She didn't know that Yamin knew that she and Cortez still fooled around. Cortez had been so particular about the times he visited her. He never wanted it to be when it was light outside and was adamant that they never had sex whenever Ashley was awoke. He feared that Ashley would accidentally snitch on him. To hear that Cortez actually spoke about their affair with his brother made her feel a little better than she had been. It meant that he wasn't totally ashamed of her like she'd assumed when he gave her all of those excuses.

     
             
"A few weeks before he died, I heard him on the phone once. It was late and he was in the bathroom with the door closed. I was eavesdropping so I didn't hear everything, but he was talking to somebody about Patrice. He kept saying--" Donica cleared her throat. "This bitch been lying to me. This bitch been lying to me. And then I heard him say something like. She cleaned up, or cleaned me out. I don't know. I tried asking him what was going on and he told me to mind my business."

     "Alright. Alright," Yamin nodded and downed the rest of his drink. He knew the only thing left to do was to see Patrice about it.

                    ****

"Damn bitch hurry up and open the door. I gotta take a mean ass piss," Manny said as he placed his hand over his stomach. He and Yamin were posted up in front of Patrice's door waiting on her to answer. They had been standing there for going on fifteen minutes with no intentions of leaving. They knew that she was home because a few minutes after they arrived, a few lights were suddenly darkened.

      
BAM! BAM! BAM!

"Open the muthafuckin' door Trice before I kick the bitch down. Fuck you hiding for? Play crazy if you want but I know your ass is up in there!" Yamin yelled and took his foot and slammed it into the door. The walls shook as the vibration caused an echo to flow through the complex.

    
             
  "Take your old ass back in the house. Ain't nothing to see," Manny said as one of Patrice's neighbors stepped outside.