Animal 2 (33 page)

It was a quiet win for the streets.

•  •  •

“Yo, that's the kid who gave me the CD that time,” Nickels Clark said. He and Turk had been sitting on the sofa in Shai's office, watching the news broadcast with him. Swann had taken
a leave of absence, so Shai had been keeping Turk close to him. He'd heard about what happened at Purple City, and his respect level for the young Turk went up. He pulled him off the streets and let him hang around with Baby Doc and Nickels. The boys had gotten so close Shai's nickname for them was the Three Stooges. They were always getting into mischief, but it was mostly innocent things that boys did. Some joked that they were going to be the next generation to run the Clark family, but Shai hoped that he could keep them innocent for a time longer.

“Yes, that was the notorious Animal,” Shai told him.

“I never would've known that he was actually doing the stuff he was rapping about in his music,” Nickels said.

“I seen him in action. The boy is about that life,” Turk told Nickels.

“Listen to you two praising him like he's Superman or some shit.” Angelo shook his head in disappointment. “This is the biggest crock of shit I've ever seen.” He turned off the television. Animal's story had been playing on TV all week long, and he was sick of hearing about it.

“You know it, and I know it, but the people believe whatever the media tells them,” Shai said. He was standing near the window in his office, staring down at a table that held a display of dominoes stacked in the shape of his initials, SC. Nickels had done it for him. “Let it rest, Angie.”

“I still feel like a sucka for giving that bitch-ass nigga a pass. We should've earthed him and his faggot-ass team,” Angelo fumed. He felt like Shai had let Animal off too easily, and it could be seen as a sign of weakness.

“That's because you're a pessimist. You always see the
glass as half empty.” Shai poured himself a glass of scotch. “Orchestrating this little circus of lies was a double win for the Clark family. Not only did I get the SD card with the Little Guy's list of names and dirty deeds, but I finally got rid of the biggest headache I've ever had. With that bit of information on all the crime families, we've shifted the balance of power in favor of the Clarks. I may not be thrilled by the way it played out, but I'm satisfied.”

Angelo shook his head. “I still don't see how you did it. Twisting this shit up so Animal walked away with a slap on the wrist and everybody else burned was the greatest magic trick I've ever seen. How the hell did you pull it off?”

Shai held up the SD card. “Technology, my friend. Most of the people who took the fall were on the Little Guy's list. They were all shit birds who were already under the microscope and just didn't know it. They were going to fall eventually, so I just gave a little push.” He plucked one of the dominoes, causing them all to topple. “And everything else fell into place on its own.”

“And the cop, Grady?” Angelo asked. “What's her stake in all this?”

“She was the easiest of them all to get on board. Animal had been knocking the bottom out her pussy since he was sixteen years old. She had a soft spot for him. When I presented her with the options of either going along with the plan or being exposed as a pedophile and losing her pension and possibly facing jail time, it wasn't a hard choice,” Shai said coolly.

“You're a slick fuck, Shai. Real slick.” Angelo laughed. “I think the biggest question of all is how'd you play the Puerto Rico angle? How did you know about the stuff going on with
Herman Cruz, let alone compile enough dirt on his organization so that a dead man took the fall for all this?”

Shai sipped his scotch. “For that, I had to make a deal with the devil. Isn't that right?” He addressed the man who had been sitting quietly in a chair across from him the whole time. He was as black as a moonless night, with jade-green eyes.

“It sure is.” K-Dawg raised his glass and smiled wickedly.

•  •  •

“Man, why don't you turn that off? It's making me sick listening to it,” Detective Brown told his partner. They were parked on a street corner in their brown Buick.

“Yeah.” Detective Alvarez turned off the radio. “It's a hard pill for me to swallow, too. After all the shit this little fucker has done, he gets a pass, that bitch Grady gets a promotion, and we get dick!”

Brown shook his head sadly. “The stories of our careers. I guess it isn't all bad, though. Animal is off the streets for a while, and his buddy Zo-Pound will be joining him shortly. We can get at least fifteen years out of him for the Rick Jenkins murder.”

Alvarez's face darkened. “Yeah, about that . . .”

Brown turned around in his seat and looked his partner in the eyes. He knew without him saying from the expression on his face. “Tell me you're shitting me?”

Alvarez shook his head sadly. “Houdini.”

•  •  •

When Zo stepped out of the courthouse, the first thing he did was take a deep breath. He turned his face to the sky and let the sun shine on it for a few moments. He had only been locked up for a week, but it felt like a lifetime.

When he got knocked for the Rick Jenkins killing, he just knew it was a wrap. He had been careless and left clues that led back to him. That, coupled with the chick from the motel running her mouth, was the nail in the coffin. When he'd reached out to the lawyer King James kept on standby for them, he was told, “If they offer you anything under ten years, jump on it and say thank you.” Thing were looking grim for Zo-Pound, but then his luck mysteriously turned. The girl, Linda, had vanished without a trace, so they no longer had an eyewitness. In a stranger turn, some dude Zo didn't know from a can of paint came forward, confessing to the murder, and he had the murder weapon in his possession to prove it. The gun and the confession were all Zo needed for his lawyer to get the charges dropped. Zo would always remember the day he got that bit of news as the first time he'd ever witnessed a miracle.

At the bottom of the courthouse stairs, Porsha awaited him, hand on her hip and lips twisted up. She was a welcome sight. Zo jumped down the stairs two at a time and scooped her up in his arms, twirling her like they were the stars of a Broadway musical. People stared and pointed, but neither Zo nor Porsha even noticed them. At that moment, they were the only two people in the world.

“Damn, I missed you.” Zo kissed her passionately on the lips.

“Not more than I missed you,” Porsha said. “When all that shit hit the fan, I thought I would never see you again.”

“You almost didn't. Baby, how did they get the gun?” Zo asked.

“I gave it to them. You left it at my house the night you went to the store and never came the fuck back.” Porsha slapped him
on the arm. “You know better than to be carrying around a dirty gun, Zo.”

“You're one hundred percent right, and it's a mistake I won't make again. But it ended up working out. I knew you were crafty, ma, but not this slick with it. You're my guardian angel.” He hugged her.

“You got an angel watching over you, but it ain't me.” Porsha nodded at Frankie Angels, who was sitting on the hood of Zo's Audi, idling at the curb. “It was all Frankie's planning that got you out.”

Zo walked over to the car and wrapped Frankie in a tight hug. “You little fucking gangster, I never thought I'd be so happy to see your face!”

“Eww, get off me, old stink-ass jail nigga.” Frankie pushed him away. “When is the last time you had a shower?”

Zo lifted his arm and smelled himself. “Yeah, I am a lil' tart, ain't I? But fuck all that, Frankie, I owe you a huge debt. I would've rotted in there if you hadn't swung this, ma.”

“Zo, when my back was against the wall, you did the same for me. I owe this to you,” Frankie said. “But I can't take all the credit. I got a little pull in the hood but not enough to make a man trade in his freedom. I had to reach out to an old friend for that.”

“Well, when you speak to this friend of yours, tell them I am eternally grateful,” Zo said.

“You can tell them yourself.” Frankie knocked on the back window of the Audi. The car door opened, and out stepped a beautiful light-skinned woman, with short-cropped red hair and alluring hazel eyes. “Zo,” Frankie continued, “this is my home girl, Evelyn.”

Evelyn extended her hand. “Nice to meet you, Zo, but you can dead the Evelyn. My friends call me Eve.”

•  •  •

King James wasn't pleased about the fact that Ashanti had gone behind his back and played boss negotiating with the Clarks. He was a man of great pride, and if looked at wrong, the move could've been seen as a sign of weakness. To his surprise, the soldiers were actually relieved that the war with the Clarks was over and they could get back to the money. They praised King as a great leader for stopping the fighting, never knowing that it was actually little Ashanti who had brokered the peace. It was a secret they decided it would be best to keep among themselves. Everyone was happy, except, of course, Lakim.

“Yo, God, I told you that little nigga was getting too big for his britches. Who the fuck does he think he is?” Lakim asked heatedly.

“I'd say he was the man who saved our organization. La, you and I both know it would've only been a matter of time before Shai crushed us,” King said honestly.

“Fuck that, God. I was ready to go to the end with it,” Lakim said.

“I'm sure you were, my G. Don't worry, though, I'm sure once word gets out what we did to ol' boy, we'll have our hands full with new enemies, and you can kill until your heart is content.”

•  •  •

“I'm coming, I'm coming!” Ma Savage yelled, as she shuffled in her house shoes to the front door. When she opened it, there was man standing on the other side, wearing a brown UPS uniform and a hat. The hat was pulled down low, covering
most of his face, but she could still see the nasty scar near his eye.

“What the fuck do you want?” Ma Savage barked.

“Package for the Savages, ma'am.” He nodded toward the box on the doorstep. “I just need your signature right here.” He handed her the clipboard.

Ma Savage snatched the clipboard, scribbled her name on it, and slammed it back into the delivery man's chest. “Here, now, get the hell off of my property before I put a hole in you, ugly!”

The delivery man tipped his hat. “You have a good one, ma'am.” He smiled and left.

Ma Savage picked up the box and noticed that it was a lot lighter than she expected it to be based on its size. She carried it into the living room, where Fire Bug was sitting on the couch watching BET.

“What's that, Mom?” Bug asked.

“How the hell should I know? Probably some shit Maxine ordered off the Home Shopping Channel. That child is always buying things she doesn't need,” Ma Savage said, looking for something sharp to open the box with.

“Let me get that for you,” Bug offered, taking a box cutter from his pocket. He was nosy as hell and wanted to see what the package was. When he cut it open, he almost vomited.

“What the hell?” Ma Savage peered into the box. When she saw Big Money Savage's eyes staring up at her from his severed head, she let out a scream that could be heard throughout the neighborhood.

A
NIMAL SAT ON THE DECK
of his beachfront Malibu home, looking out at the water. He giggled like a tickled child every time he thought of how far he had come from the slums of Harlem.

When he'd resurfaced from the dead, again, and the scandal hit the fan, Animal became a bigger celebrity than he already was. People were coming at him left and right with film and book offers. More important, his album sales had quadrupled when his story hit the media. Upon an audit of Don B.'s accounts, it had been discovered that Animal was owed quite a hefty sum for years of unpaid royalties. The Don was skimming Animal's estate and figured he could get away with it, because a dead man couldn't complain about fudged numbers. The unpaid royalties, coupled with the current royalties owed from Animal's recent spike in sales, put Big Dawg in debt to him for several million dollars. He would never have to rob, hustle, or kill ever again.

The past few years had been a roller-coaster ride through hell and back, but he was still around to reflect on it. His mind went to the father he'd barely had a chance to know, and he found himself sorrowful. Priest had been a less-than-stellar father, but when Animal needed him most, he was there. Had it not been for his sacrifice, Animal would be six feet under instead of on top of the world. Animal had decided while he was in prison that he would lay the demons of his childhood to rest and focus on the future. If Priest had taught him anything, he had taught him what
not
to do with his own children.

As if on cue, T.J. came toddling out onto the deck. He was a beautiful chocolate little boy, with a mop of curly black hair and pretty lips. The spitting image of his father. T.J. was dressed in only a Pamper, a pair of Jordans, and Priest's gold rosary.

“Come here.” Animal scooped T.J. onto his lap. “Where did you get this?” He removed the chain, And T.J. started crying. “No, this isn't for you. You ain't gonna be nothing like your daddy or grandpa, you hear me?”

In response, T.J. leaned in and hugged Animal. It was as if he knew his father was slipping back to his dark place, and he wanted to help pull him out of it.

“You're a good boy, T.J. You ain't gonna get caught up in none of this bullshit.” Animal rubbed his back.

“He sure isn't.” Gucci stepped out onto the deck. Her hair was micro-braided and pulled back into a ponytail. The long sundress she wore blew in the warm breeze. She took T.J. off Animal's lap and took his place, holding T.J. in her arms. “What you doing out here?”