Welfare Wifeys (29 page)

Apparently the police had found a soda can at the crime scene with Changa’s prints on it. How they got there was a mystery to Rico and everybody else. Rico wanted to arrange a meeting between him and Changa, but the lawyer advised against it. As it stood they
didn’t have enough to charge Rico with a crime but the prints gave them a fist full of Changa’s balls. It was best if he cut himself loose from the situation while he could and help Changa from a distance, if he decided to help him at all. If Changa was guilty of what the police were saying then he was in violation because he had killed a member of Tito’s family, and it was an offense that called for death. The threads of the situation had to be unraveled without haste and Rico knew just who to holla at.

Before he was even released Rico had set the wheels in motion, but it was a task that was easier said than done. He had Carmen place a call to a third party that would connect him to the source. There was some reluctance because it was such short notice, but after a brief explanation of the seriousness of the situation the source agreed to see Rico and the meeting was set to go down at Katz Deli off of Houston.

Rico instructed his driver to pull up in front of the fire hydrant and to keep the engine running, as he hadn’t planned on staying longer than he had to. Attending him were two hired thugs named Mud and Dirt whom he kept on retainer for sticky situations like the one he found himself caught up in. They were a shabby pair who didn’t put much stock in physical appearance, but they were thorough when it came to causing mayhem. He had tried to get a hold of Ras to let him know what was going on, but kept getting the voice mail. Knowing Ras’s irresponsible ass he had probably let the battery die, as he was known to do regularly. Rico promised himself that after he took a hot bath and got a good night’s rest he was going to tighten up his ranks.

With Rico leading the pack the trio breezed inside the deli and headed straight for the back. Already seated at a booth in the far corner was the man he had come to see, Shai Clark. The young Don sat slouched in the chair reading a tattered copy of
Hip-Hop Weekly.
To his left and right respectively sat Angelo and Swan. Two tables to the left young Doc sat with two hard-faced men, picking over a
corned beef sandwich. He spared Rico and his people a brief glance when they initially walked in, but other than that he didn’t acknowledge him. Seeing Shai out in full guard at a friendly meeting made Rico suspect that he may have already had an idea of what was going on and who was behind what.

Rico stopped Mud and Dirt before he reached Shai’s table. “Y’all go get ya selves some sandwiches or something from the counter while I talk to this dude. I won’t be long,” he told them before joining Shai at his table.

Shai took his time closing his magazine and smoothing the faded cover. “What’s up, Rico?”

“I was hoping you could tell me. Shai, I know you already know the gist of what happened so I ain’t gonna bore you with the details of what I’ve been through, but what I will ask is if you could help me with what’s going on?”

“Rico, all I’ve gotten through the ghetto grapevine so far is that Changa tried to push Lee’s shit back and fucked it up, now Lee and anybody with ears is fingering you because they know Changa’s your dude.”

“But, Shai, that’s crazy. Lee made a lot of money for me on the streets and he always came correct with it, it’d be stupid to kill him. And even if I did want Lee dead why the hell would I send my personal bodyguard to do it?”

Shai shrugged. “Rico, that’s a discussion for you and your fam to have, you know we don’t get involved unless it affects the business of the Commission as a whole.”

“If somebody is trying to frame me then it will affect the Commission if I’m not here to earn!” Rico shot back.

“Rico, I’ve known you long enough to know that you’re a lot of things but never sloppy, especially when it comes to homicide. Maybe Changa and Lee had a beef you didn’t know about and it got to the point where there was no more to be said,” Shai suggested.

Rico let Shai’s statement seep in and analyzed it before
responding. “Yes, I had thought about it like that since his prints prove that he was there, but it doesn’t sound like Changa. For one thing he’s very meticulous when it comes to killing, so there’s no way he would’ve been foolish enough to leave his prints. The other thing that was bothering me was the way it was done.” Rico went on to give Shai the details of the crime as he had received them, which caused Shai to raise an eyebrow as he hadn’t heard the whole story.

“Damn, they took the boy’s eyes and paralyzed him?” Angelo shook his head. “There ain’t too many who twist shit up that disrespectfully and I don’t break bread with none of them.”

Shai gave Angelo a concerned look, then turned back to Rico. “I don’t know, dawg. You need to put a lid on whoever is trying to cramp your style so you can get this heat off you and get back to business. I’m taking a hell of a chance even meeting you here knowing you’re fresh out on a murder charge, you’re as hot as a firecracker. Whatever is going down I hope you get a lid on it soon, because these internal strifes with the families ain’t good for business.”

“So what am I supposed to do, send hit squads at everybody who I have an issue with in the streets?” Rico asked sarcastically.

“No, just the ones who got balls enough and guns enough to actually succeed in putting a tag on your toe,” Shai told him seriously. “But I say again, this is a conversation you should be having with your men, not me. You let a weasel loose in your henhouse and it’s on you to get him out.” Shai pushed away from the table and stood up. “Rico, if I hear anything I’ll make sure I get word to you. In the meantime, stay low and regroup, my dude. I’m sure before it’s all said and done you’ll have it all figured out.” Shai dropped the copy of
Hip-Hop Weekly
on the table in front of Rico on his way out.

“Ya boy Rico sure looked scared,” Swan said once they were outside the deli.

“I might be too if I had his kind of problems. The thing about
niggaz like Animal is that they never stop. You can beat them, stab them, or shoot them but if you don’t kill them you’ll always have to worry about them,” Shai said.

“Then how come we haven’t put his brains on the wall yet?” Swan asked. “Shai, you said yourself that if Animal can get to Rico he might start getting big ideas. Why do you allow him to live knowing what kind of problem he represents?”

“It’s simple. Animal knows that I could have him whacked out whenever I got the notion to, but I gave him a pass. If he actually comes out of this alive it’s a courtesy he won’t forget. If Animal kills Rico then we promote someone who isn’t so much of a headache and all is quiet again; if Animal gets pushed we don’t have to worry about him, either way it’s a win for us.”

“If that’s the case then why didn’t you just tell Rico that it was Animal who went in on his people?” Angelo asked.

“For the same reasons that my father never sat me down and told me what it would take to walk a mile in his shoes. None of us have passed the test of fire with someone whispering the answers on the sidelines. If Rico is smart he’ll put it together and if he isn’t then he’s dead, simple as that,” Shai said.

“You know, if I didn’t know any better I’d think you were getting pretty good at this crime boss thing,” Swan said, holding the back door of the black SUV open for Shai to get in, while Angelo watched the street for trouble.

Shai looked back at his friends and smiled. “Because I had the best teachers.”

“How’d everything go?” Dirt asked, taking the seat Angelo had abandoned. Mud also joined them.

“It was a waste of fucking time because Shai didn’t tell me anything I don’t already know,” Rico said heatedly. “Shai is out here rolling five or six deep, then his ass is nervous about something too,
so maybe I ain’t the only one with an invisible enemy. I wouldn’t be surprised if this whole shit was done by somebody trying to upset the balance of power and all them muthafuckas are taking precautions.”

“You ain’t lying, Rico. I heard on the streets that a few cats that’s getting it up out there all decided to take week-long vacations outta New York at the same time, like they knew something was coming before anybody else. This shit has gotta be connected,” Mud suggested, while he flipped through the pages of the discarded magazine on the table. “With the way everybody jetting out this party that Big Dawg is supposed to be throwing is probably gonna be whack.” Mud tapped the advertisement for the grand opening of Code Red.

Rico treated Mud’s statement like white noise at first, but that was before his eyes landed on the photo collage that featured all of the big stars who were supposed to be in New York for the event. He snatched the magazine from Mud and looked closely at one picture in particular.

Thanks to the ad his enemy now had a face.

It was chilly outside, but Animal had his windows rolled down letting the wind whip through his hair. He needed it to wake him up as he had had little sleep the last few days. He felt bad about telling Gucci the little white lie, but he reasoned it was for the best. If he had told her where he was really going then he would have to also tell her why he was going there and it wasn’t a story he was quite ready to tell.

The old Damu Ridas cut “Shoulda Been a B-Dog” blasted so loud through his speakers that he had to adjust his rearview mirror twice from the vibration. He rode past Columbia University and watched as multicultural kids moved back and forth on their way to class or just shooting the shit. Most of the students were oblivious to the fact that their school sat on the border of one of America’s many urban ghettos, and those who did know what time it was could often be found skulking around in the hood trying to score their vice of choice. At 110th Animal made a left and headed east toward his destination. To his surprise and relief he was able to find parking on Columbus Avenue so he didn’t have far to walk back. He took a minute to pop a mint into his mouth and spray Febreze before getting out of the car and disappearing into the block.

As soon as Animal stepped into the building he could smell whatever solution they had used to clean the floors. It smelled like oranges soaked in ammonia, but he would rather smell that than the sickly odor it was used to cover up. Behind the desk in the lobby sat a heavyset dark-skinned woman dressed in a nurse’s uniform. How brows were tightly knitted as she concentrated on the magazine on her lap. Feeling that someone had entered the room she looked up and her thick lips parted into a wide smile.

“Now I know I’m seeing things, get your narrow ass over here and give me some love.” She came from around the corner and hugged him tightly. “Boy, I haven’t seen you in so long! Where have you been?”

“Here and there.” He smiled warmly. “How you been, Mrs. Brown?”

Mrs. Brown sighed. “Well, I got my health so I can’t complain.”

“I know I was supposed to call first but . . .”

“No need to explain. You’ve been a busy man.” She smiled.

“You don’t know the half, Mrs. Brown. This new job I’ve got has taken up a lot of my time.”

“You don’t have to tell me, I’ve got ears and eyes.” She held up the magazine she’d been reading. It was a copy of
Hip-Hop Weekly
, with the page folded back on the interview he’d done with them two months prior. He remembered how he had been initially against doing the interview because of the photo they wanted to use. It was a picture of him standing in a cage scowling at the camera, with teeth of sharpened steel instead of gold. Strewn around the cage were the dead bodies of several people dressed like tourists, with the caption “Don’t Feed the Animals” spray-painted in graffiti. Animal didn’t like the picture because he felt that it gave off the wrong image of him and his music, but Don B. thought it would be great for publicity, and of course he was right. The picture was now one of the most downloaded wallpapers on the Internet.

“We’re all very proud of you,
Animal
.”

Animal could feel himself blushing at Mrs. Brown calling him by his street name. “Thank you,” he said like a shy child who had just won the class spelling bee. There was a long pause before Animal finally got around to the question he had come to ask. “How’s she doing?”

Mrs. Brown’s face darkened a bit, but she kept her smile. “Up and down, but God is good, baby. Come on and let me take you to her.” She took Animal gently by the arm. “I’m sure she’ll be glad to have a visitor, especially a celebrity.”

Animal followed Mrs. Brown down the pale hallway with his eyes fixed on the green tiles under his feet, mindful not to look into any of the rooms on either side of the hall. Animal had visited the nursing home dozens of times, but the trips never got easier. He always felt like the residents of the facility were watching him with accusatory eyes. It was as if the residents being so close to the end of their lives could see the shadow of death that he wore like a cloak around his shoulders.

Mrs. Brown stopped at a room at the end of the first-floor hallway and peered inside. “She’s awake, good. Come on.” She led Animal into the room.

It was a sparsely decorated room with only a bed and a small table that could be used for writing or eating. The television mounted on the wall was tuned to an old episode of
Murder, She Wrote
but there was no sound coming from it. A large wing-backed chair sat in the corner facing the window with an old woman looking out at the sunset. Her skin looked as thin as parchment and was ghostly pale from lack of direct sunlight. She had a mane of silver hair that fell around her thin shoulders in two long braids. It pained Animal to look at her, yet he couldn’t turn his eyes away.

“Hanna, it’s Maggie,” Mrs. Brown called out to her.

She turned her milky white eyes in the direction of Mrs. Brown’s voice and smiled. “I’m blind not deaf, girl. I heard you when you came in, but I also heard two sets of footsteps. Who’ve you got with you?”

“Hey,” Animal said softly.

Hanna’s face suddenly became very serious. “Tayshawn?” She stepped forward slowly with her hands extended.