When It All Falls Down 3 - Somebody is Gonna Die: A Chicago Hood Drama (A Hustler's Lady) (4 page)
Authors: Tamicka Higgins
“Oh my God,” Sharli said. “I can’t even believe that you would ask me something like that when you know how long we’ve known each other and been around each other and stuff. You know you can trust me. When have I ever did you wrong, Ayana? Huh? When have I ever did you wrong?”
Ayana thought about it for a moment before answering. “Never, I guess,” she said. “But, this is a big fuckin’ deal, okay. I know what you said you saw on the news, and, yeah, it is true.”
“Oh my God,” Sharli exclaimed. “Why, Ayana? Why? I mean, I knew they was always out in these streets making money the only way a lot of these niggas know how to make some money, but why they gotta escalate to robbin’ banks and shit. Robbin’ banks is for white people and desperate people. The only niggas you see robbin’ banks are the ones who ain’t really smart enough to come up with the money no other way.”
Ayana cringed, biting her bottom lip as she looked up at the darkening sky. “Yeah, well,” she said, thinking of an old saying she’d heard in school, “Desperate times call for desperate measures.”
“But why?” Sharli asked. “That’s just what I’m try’na understand. I just wanna know why, girl.”
“‘Cause something happened, Sharli,” Ayana said. “And, actually, that’s why I called you back. I ain’t know what I was supposed to say earlier, but we need your help.”
“Um,” Sharli said. “Girl, you know, um, I do hair. I don’t know nothin’ about holdin’ no guns and runnin’ up in no banks or no shit like that. The only time I even go into a bank is to try to cash a check or something. You know how the bank be treatin’ us when we go in there. I don’t even like to deal with they asses, especially not after how they did me back when. Don’t you remember, girl?”
“Okay, Sharli, okay,” Ayana said, trying to stop Sharli from going any further on her tangent. “I ain’t talkin’ bout we need help like that. I need to know how you know this dude named Byron. I went on your Facebook page and saw the post you was talkin’ bout, the one that we talked about and stuff the other day or whenever it was. I need to know how you know him ‘cause…just ‘cause.”
“Girl, that is this nigga that everybody around here know,” Sharli said, in an excited tone. “That’s Byron. I don’t remember his last name, but I always used to see him around here when I was growing up and shit. He a little older than us, but not much. I do know that he used to get niggas together out on the corners if they ain’t have what they was supposed to have. Girl, I remember this time he beat this one dude’s ass so bad he literally sent him running down the street crying. It was so bad.”
“So, what?” Ayana asked. “Do he stay over there or what?”
“Naw,” Sharli said. “Not that I know of. I do know that he got friends over here and shit. This one dude, Damon. I’m friends with him on Facebook, not Byron.”
“Oh,” Ayana said, recognizing that this was her key to finding out what she needed to know. “And how do you know Damon? I mean, is he coo with Byron and stuff. I swear, girl. We ain’t try’na do nothin’ to get you in trouble, but you saw the picture of Tramar’s stepmother, Miss Vivica.” Ayana looked back at the entrance of Chuck-E-Cheese. “That is some real shit, and we really gotta find her and his daddy before something bad happens. Girl, please, how do you know Damon, and you think you know him well or what?”
“Girl, we used to talk for a little bit, but it wasn’t even nothin’ serious,” Sharli explained. “We still friends and stuff. Sometimes I see him when we go places.”
“But how is he coo with Byron then?” Ayana asked. “I mean, you said you friends with him and that’s your connection, I guess, to Byron.”
“Girl, I think they might be related or almost best friends or something,” Sharli said. “I take that back. I think they run in the same circles and shit and just know a lot of the same people.”
“I see,” Ayana said, trying to think of how this information could be valuable to Tramar and Jackson. “Girl, please don’t tell nobody what is goin’ on.”
“Girl, you know I won’t,” Sharli said. “You know I won’t tell nobody. I just want you to come back to us safe. Wait a minute. Where are y’all at anyway?”
“I…” Ayana began, hesitantly. “I can’t say. I just can’t say, girl. I don’t even know where we at like that. All I know is that we somewhere far out, far out from the city. I can’t see no tall buildings or nothin’ like that to even start to tell you where the fuck I’m at. All I see is dark woods and houses and little condo-type shit with white people in it. Girl, I never been so scared in my life. I swear.”
“Girl, let me help y’all,” Sharli insisted. “Let me help y’all. What can I do? I can’t just sit here while y’all out there on the run and runnin’ blind. What about Vivica and Tramar’s daddy. How y’all gon’ get them two back?”
“That’s the thing, Sharli,” Ayana said. “That’s why we need to find this Byron dude. That’s what we need your help with. We need to find out where this Byron nigga is without him finding out that we lookin’ for him.”
“I see,” Sharli said, her voice telling Ayana that she was on the other end contemplating. “Girl, I gotta think about it. I mean, I could hit up Damon and act like I was just seein’ what he was up to. But I don’t know how y’all would even get to meet up with him and stuff without it looking suspicious.”
“Well,” Ayana said, feeling as if she were pulling at straws. “I mean, do he sell or what?”
“You know what,” Sharli said. “I think he do.”
Ayana then realized that would be their way in. Hopefully, they would be able to meet up with him tonight. “Girl, I know what you can do.”
Ayana explained her idea to Sharli before the two of them had gotten off of the phone. She then quickly rushed back into Chuck-E-Cheese. As she pushed her way through the bobbing heads of children scattered across the aisles, she made her way back to the booth. She sat down across from Jackson and Tramar.
“So, what she say?” Tramar asked.
“I know just what we can do so y’all can meet up with her connection to Byron,” Ayana said. “The dude that Sharli know that know Byron sells. She gon’ text me after she call him and see if he can meet up tonight with y’all to get some. Sharli gon’ vouch for y’all since she said that he really don’t like dealing with people that he don’t know like that.”
“Yeah,” Tramar said. “I feel him on that.”
“His name is Damon,” Ayana continued. “Sharli said that she used to talk to him, and that he real cool with Byron. Y’all up for going to meet with him tonight?”
Jackson shrugged his shoulders. “I guess so,” he said. “I mean, what other choice we got?”
“But this nigga prolly ain’t gon’ just open up to us and tell us whatever we need to know about Byron’s bitch ass,” Tramar said. “He especially probably won’t if it’s the first time that he meetin’ us and the first time that we buyin’ from him.”
“Fuck that,” Jackson said. “Then we just gon’ have to make him talk.”
Before the conversation could move forward, a Chuck-E-Cheese employee had walked up to the table and dropped off their pizza. When she walked away, they continued with Tramar saying, “I’m down with that. I don’t give a fuck what we gotta do or say. The nigga is close to Byron and shit, so I wanna know what he know, and if he know where we can find Byron. We ain’t even gotta tell him our names and shit. Oh, snap!” Tramar looked at Ayana. “Did you tell Sharli to use different names when she call him and tell him that we try’na meet him tonight?”
Ayana’s eyes opened wide. “No,” she answered. “I mean, I hope that she would think to do that if she know that, from what she’d seen on the news, that she would be smart enough to use different names.”
In a panic, Ayana pulled her phone out of her pocket and called Sharli back. When Sharli answered, she got straight to the point of telling her that she needed to use different names.
“Girl, I was just thinkin’ the same thing,” Sharli said. “When I was sendin’ the text, I thought about that. I put that they names was James and Greg, okay?”
Quickly, Ayana said okay. Sharli told her that she’d text her when Damon responded to her messages. When Ayana set her phone down, she smiled. “See, what I tell you?” she said. “You guys are now named James and Greg.”
“James and Greg?” Tramar asked, a little smile forming on his face. “So, who the fuck supposed to be James and who gon’ be Greg?”
“I take James,” Jackson said. “I don’t wanna be named Greg. Something about that name that just don’t seem right for a nigga. Greg.” He shook his head.
“Now, we gotta think about our other problem,” Ayana said. “The cars. How long we gon’ ride around in them cars?”
“Shit,” Tramar said. “I was try’na not think about that shit, but she right, man.” He looked at Jackson. “We gon’ have to get out of them cars. Or, if nothing else, can we find some other plates to put on them.”
“Actually,” Jackson said, smiling. Working in car theft rings had been his specialty since he was practically a teenager. He’d lost count of just how many cars he’d helped to steal. However, he did know that he’d seen some cars that were similar to both his and Tramar’s car. That would certainly work in their favor. “Y’all,” Jackson said, “we really are gon’ have a busy Saturday night. I can make a couple calls to these niggas, I know. They savages, really. And see what kinda plates they might have that would match our cars and shit. I ain’t so much worried about my car, but it’s your car nigga that stick out more.”
Tramar thought about his red Dodge Charger. He’d seen some out on the streets of Chicago, but they were definitely something that you’d see more of down in the hood, especially on the south side. “Make your calls, nigga,” he said. “‘Cause even if we do get some other cars by jackin’ some nigga for his, we still gon’ have the cops breathin’ down our necks because we ridin’ around in a car that’s been reported stolen and shit. Let’s see what we can do. And Ayana, be lookin’ for your cousin to text you back. I’m ready as soon as that nigga Damon is, so we can figure out how we gon’ go about findin’ Byron. I don’t give a fuck if we gotta hold a gun to this nigga’s head to get him to tell us. I’mma fuckin’ find out.”
Chapter 3
As they followed Jackson around to the back of the hotel, Tramar couldn’t help but look around the parking lot. If a corner of the building was dark, he looked extra hard. He looked for anything that seemed the least bit out of place. Even if he was going to go down at this hotel, he wanted to make sure that it wouldn’t be a total surprise. In so many ways, Tramar felt somewhat naked. Before they’d left the Chuck-E-Cheese, he went into the bathroom and since his phone was in his name, he took it apart and flushed the individual pieces down the toilet.
Ayana got Tramar’s attention by tapping his forearm. She held her phone up, showing him that Sharli had responded with a text message saying that her guy Damon was cool meeting up with them. Tramar nodded, liking the idea, as he pulled into a parking spot at the back of the hotel. The four of them walked up to the room where Tramar told Quan to take a shower before going to bed.
At first Quan resisted, simply because he didn’t like being wet before going to bed. However, Tramar told him that if he dried off well enough, he wouldn’t have to worry about being wet in the bed. Quan did as he was told, which was what Tramar needed in order to have a few minutes to talk to Jackson and Ayana.
“So, nigga, how we gon’ roll over there?” Tramar asked. “A nigga ain’t gon’ be ridin’ down into the hood and shit in cars with plates that the police might be lookin’ for.”
“Already on it,” Jackson said, looking down at his phone. “Already on it. I’m actually texting my dude right now that say he gon’ come over from Hammond with some plates to a car that look like mine. Like I said, I don’t think my car is gon’ be that much of an issue. Your shit, on the other hand, sticks out. I told you about buyin’ that flashy shit then thinkin’ you can stay low in it when you know you can’t.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Tramar said. “Whatever, nigga. Just see if that nigga can hurry up and get over here so we ain’t out there all night and shit. I don’t give a fuck what I gotta do. I’mma fuckin’ find out what this nigga that Sharli know about Byron, and we gon’ take it from there. This nigga already got us in deeper than we could imagine and shit. I’m ready to put a bullet in this nigga head and call it a fuckin’ day. Just let me get my family back, then we can get the fuck up outta Chicago and shit and not look back unless we got to.”
Ayana looked away as she thought about what Tramar might have meant by the last sentence. Sure, she knew that their lives had forever changed, especially now that they’d been covered on the news. However, she also knew that nobody, as far as she knew, even knew that she was a part of anything. She was just the girlfriend of one of the suspects, but it wasn’t as if that was documented. They weren’t married, and Ayana had made it a point over the years to not post too many photos of them on social media. She just didn’t like people being able to pry into her social life and knowing too much about her.
When Ayana snapped out of her brief daze, Jackson was heading out the door. “I’ll be right back, okay,” he said. “You know what? Tramar, just come out when I hit Ayana up, and you can just hop in the car. I got ole dude comin’ to meet me in this shopping center that’s like a mile away or something. I’ll hit you up.”
Jackson walked out of the door and rode the elevators down to the first floor. Once he walked out to his car and hopped in behind the wheel, he cautiously drove over to Norwood Road, where he was going to meet Tony at the Spring Glenn Shopping Center. There he sat in the parking lot and waited until Tony pulled up. Jackson hopped out of the car and shook hands, hugging Tony.
Tony, who was a tall, darker-skinned guy, hugged Jackson back as the two had really grown up thinking that they were cousins until they found out otherwise.
“Man, what the fuck is goin’ on?” Tony asked. “I mean, I ain’t seen you in a minute, man. What the fuck you been up to?”
“Shit,” Jackson answered. “Just out here try’na make this money is all. Same ole, same ole. Man, what’s been up with you?”
“Shit,” Tony said. “Just got another baby on the way.”
“Another one, nigga,” Jackson said, not really remembering how many Tony had the last time they’d seen one another. “Nigga, is you try’na have a football team or what?”
Tony laughed. “Man, a nigga just like pussy is all,” he said. “Can’t get enough of it out here.”
“I hear that,” Jackson said, in agreement.
“So,” Tony said, pulling the license plate out of the backseat. “What the fuck you done went and did, nigga? Or who the fuck you try’na run from and shit?”
“What you mean?” Jackson asked.
Tony lifted the license plate up and looked at it. “Niggas don’t ask for a different license plate for nothin’, nigga,” he said. “What you doin’ with this shit? You ain’t out here killin’ niggas and shit, are you?”
Jackson shook his head. “Naw, nigga,” he said. “I ain’t kill nobody.” He thought about how Tramar had shot and killed the security guard at his bank. “Naw, man, I just need this shit to stay low for a minute.”
Tony looked at Jackson, not really buying what he was saying. However, he was street enough to know better than to go asking too many questions. Tony simply pulled out his screwdriver and began to swap out the plates on the back of Jackson’s car. Once he finished, he lifted himself up and shook Jackson’s hand. “Man, you be safe out here tonight, okay?” he said. “You know these cops stay lookin’ for some nigga to lock up and shit. Just don’t let it be you.”
“I know,” Jackson said. “They be tryin’. But, naw, I ain’t gon’ be out that late no way. I ain’t. I just gotta run somewhere real quick and come back and shit, that’s all.”
For a split second, Jackson thought about asking Tony if he just so happened to know Byron. Tony was indeed the kind of guy that got around to all of the hoods. Jackson then thought about how they’d already let in Ayana’s cousin Sharli on what they had going on. There was no need that he could see to risk anyone else knowing more than they really should. Plus, Tony was a real likable guy – the kind of guy who talked to everyone and was friends with everyone. He was exactly the kind of guy who would talk too much, especially if some alcoholic beverages began to make their way around.
Jackson thanked Tony for coming out in the middle of the night, promising him that the two of them would get together and smoke sometime. He knew this promise was more than likely an empty one, but he had to say something to remain cordial with whoever he came across. Jackson headed back to the hotel and called Ayana’s phone as he was pulling into the parking lot.
Tramar came out within a few minutes and hopped into Jackson’s car. “You get the plates or what?” he asked.
Jackson looked over at Tramar as he pulled off and headed toward the front of the hotel. “Hell yeah, nigga,” he said. “I got them and shit. So, at least, we can ride around a little easier knowing that these plates belong to a car that don’t even exist no more. Let’s just play this safe and shit so we can hurry up and find this nigga before tomorrow night. Hold up, since you ain’t got no phone now, how we gon’ get in contact with this dude we goin’ to meet up with?”
Tramar pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and held it up. “I had Ayana write his number and shit down so we can hit him up when we get close,” he explained. “He already know that we gon’ be hittin’ him up from a different number. As long as we say that we Greg and James, we should be coo.”
“Coo,” Jackson said.
Jackson made his way over to the highway. He and Tramar talked back and forth as they slowly rolled up onto the cluster of skyscrapers downtown. They lit up the sky, as the streets of downtown Chicago were alive with clubs, bars, and restaurants, among many other things. When Jackson pulled off of the highway, he handed his cell phone to Tramar and told him to text the dude so that they could be sure of where they were going. Tramar did and Damon texted back within a matter of seconds.
Tramar read the screen. “2125 Holston,” he said. “He said that when we get outside of some apartment buildings, to just hit him up, and he would come out. He also said to watch out for niggas walkin’ up to our car and shit.”
Jackson reached under his seat, making sure that his gun was there. He looked over at Tramar. “You ain’t bring your gun with you either, did you?” he asked.
Tramar nodded, patting his right pocket. “Hell yeah, nigga,” he said. “I brought this shit with me. We gon’ get this nigga to tell us what the fuck we need to know. Just play it cool, though, and let’s see what happens.”
“Right,” Jackson said.
For the next several minutes, Jackson drove the car toward the address that Tramar had said moments before. When he pulled up outside of some dark, red brick apartment buildings clustered around a courtyard and about five stories high, Tramar called Damon. “Yeah, we out here,” he said. “In the dark blue, black car.”
They waited for several minutes before they saw a medium-height, lanky figure walking out of the apartment complex. Once the figure approached the car, he slid into the backseat and pulled his hood off of his head. “Wassup, fam?” he said, reaching into the front seat and shaking their hands.
“Shit, nothin’ much,” Tramar said. Jackson said the same.
“We just heard that you got that good shit with you, nigga,” Jackson said. “You got it on you, or do we gotta roll somewhere and get it?”
“Actually,” Damon said, pointing ahead. “I got it on me. Just pull off a little bit, ‘cause I don’t like doin’ this shit out front of where I live since my mama and aunties and stuff be lookin’ out the window. Plus, you know it’s a Saturday night when a buncha niggas is out and stuff. Just pull up and I’ll get with y’all up there. Matter of fact, there is a park around the corner where dudes be posted up in the lot. We can park down the block and won’t nobody even notice us. There’s this old storefront building on the corner that don’t be havin’ shit in it at night.”
Jackson did as Damon said. He casually pulled off and up to the end of the block. He turned right and could immediately see where Damon was talking about. He pulled up on the side of a building and allowed Damon to ask them just what it was exactly that they were coming to get. Tramar looked over at Jackson, letting him know just by the look in his eyes that he was about to literally go one hundred.
In one quick move, Tramar had pulled his gun out of his pocket and was pointing it at Damon in the backseat. “Oh, shit,” Damon said, holding his hands up as he leaned as far back into his seat as he could go. “Okay, man, okay. Just be cool, okay man? Just be cool. We ain’t gotta kill nobody or nothin’.”
“I ain’t say that I was wantin’ to kill nobody, nigga,” Tramar said. “I need to ask you some shit, and I need you to sit right there while we talk and shit.”
“Okay, okay,” Damon said, practically stuttering. “That’s cool, man. That’s cool. Just put the gun down and shit and we can talk. I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”
Tramar looked the guy up and down, guessed him to be somewhere in his very early twenties. Even though he had a little bit of facial hair, his voice was much higher than he’d expect for a dude from the hood. Tramar looked around on the street, seeing what looked like prostitutes standing on the corner up ahead. He slid out of his seat and quickly jumped into the back seat, next to Damon. Now, with the gun pointed at Damon in even closer quarters, he was able to really dig for information.
“What you know about that nigga, Byron?” Tramar asked. “I need to find him to…to…talk about some shit real quick. Tell me what you know about that nigga Byron.”
“Who?” Damon said, trying to play dumb. “I don’t know shit about that nigga. I swear I don’t.”
Tramar leaned in closer, causing Damon to tense up and move even further back. His back was practically curved with the shape of the inside of the car door. Even with all of the things he’d done out in the streets, he’d never had a gun pointed at him. He’d been thankful for being able to say such a thing. Now, however, that would change; he could only hope that this guy he’d just met didn’t pull the trigger.
“Nigga, stop lyin’,” Tramar demanded. “I know you know some shit and now you try’na play like you don’t. Nigga, don’t think I won’t kill you. You ain’t gotta be scared of Byron and shit. I swear, he won’t even know where we got our information from. You can remain a secret and shit if that’s what you’re worried about and shit. Now, just tell me where the fuck we can find this nigga Byron ass at.”