Chaser (4 page)

“And what would you need from me?”

“It has nothing to do with this fraud case.”

I was perplexed, and it showed on my face.

The detective continued. “Kenneth Courtland is heavily involved in the drug trade, as I’m sure you’re aware. And he’s someone we’ve been watching for some time now. We really want to nail him, but not on an insurance fraud case.” The detective shook his head. “No, we want him on drug charges and the homicides that are linked to Mr. Courtland’s ruthless practices.”

A tear escaped my eye as I listened to the detective tell me essentially that I was in love with a monster. I mean, I knew Kenny was into what he was into, but I’d turned a blind eye to its depth. As far as I was concerned, what he did in the streets didn’t affect me. Besides, it wasn’t as if I’d fallen in love with Kenny the drug dealer. Like I said, when I met Kenny, he was nothing more than a wreck chaser—a young guy who was fortunate enough to make a decent living working for his best friend’s dad. So I didn’t feel guilty for falling in love with him. But what I had become guilty of was staying with him once he turned bad. And as the drug game changed him, he changed me. Now here I was, sucked up in his vacuum of heartache, possibly headed to federal prison for some shit he did. I felt low.

“Ms. Baker, help us help you,” Detective Daily said, patting my hand.

“I don’t know if I can,” I cried.

“But do you really have a choice, Ms. Baker? Ask yourself that. What’s goin’ to happen to you if you don’t help us? You’re gonna go to jail, come home, and Mr. Courtland will be with someone else. I mean, the mere fact that he had another girl in the car with you is evidence of that, isn’t it?”

I nodded as I recalled parts of the three-way call I’d had with my mom and Kenny:
Kenny, who that?…Was that Woo’s girl?…What are you doin’ with her?…Now he got you locked up while he out runnin’ the streets with some chick…

“So what are you going to do, Ms. Baker?” The detective snapped me out of my thoughts.

“I guess you’re right, Detective,” I mumbled. “I don’t have a choice.”

With those words I agreed to do something I’d never thought I would do. I agreed to be a confidential informant.

The detective coached me on what I was to do, say, and look for once I was released and back with Kenny. He also helped me concoct a story to tell Kenny about why I was getting out of jail without having to post bail.

“Kenny.”

“What’s up? How much is it?” he asked.

“It’s steep.”

“How steep?”

“Ten percent of two hundred fifty thousand.”

“Damn, this your first offense! How they goin’ put your bail so high? That’s bullshit!”

“’Cause they’d rather me take the deal they’re offering.”

“What kind of deal?” The tone in Kenny’s voice grew somewhat concerned.

“You by yourself?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

“Well, they said they been watching Nasir’s dad for a minute. They said they know of a lot more acts of fraud that go on within his business and wreck chasing altogether. They want me to be an informant against Vic.”

“Yeah?” he asked.

“That’s what they said. And if I do, they said this case will disappear.” I waited for Kenny’s response. “Without bail,” I added.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes. So…I need to know what I should do.”

“An informant, huh?” There was silence. “I don’t know if I want my girl being so close to the law. But you know what, fuck it. I think you should take that route. Give ’em what they want. Shit, save me some money. Plus, I don’t like Vic anyway. He got his shit with him.”

“What about Nasir? I mean, he is your friend. You don’t feel bad settin’ up his father?”

“Nasir is his own man, and Vic is his own man. What Vic and I go through don’t have nothin’ to do with me and Nasir. Don’t even worry about that.”

“What if somebody finds out I’m talkin’ to the cops? You know what they do to snitches in the streets.”

“If it’s ya time to go, you goin’ go regardless. I wouldn’t even worry ’bout that,” he said.

Hearing his heartlessness made me sick to my stomach. He was ready and willing to throw anybody, including me, under the bus if it benefited him. That was the final straw. Kenny had showed me his true colors once and for all, and I was determined to show him mine. I loved the man, yes, but at that point I hated him equally. Besides, it was about time I started loving myself more.

I
pulled up to my dad’s shop, and Brock was standing by the door shivering so bad he could barely get his cigarette to his mouth.

“It’s cold than a mafucka out this mafucka,” Brock said as I got out of my truck.

“I know. How long you been standin’ out here?” I asked.

“Since eight o’clock, nigga—the time you was supposed to have ya ass here.”

“He ain’t bullshittin’, either, ’cause I was out here with him,” another voice called out.

I followed the voice to Kenny, who was getting out of his Maserati Quattroporte. “I woulda let him sit in my car, but that nigga wasn’t willin’ to put out that cigarette,” Kenny said, giving me a handshake.

“Hell naw,” Brock agreed. “This nigga be late every morning,
havin’ me stressin’. What was it this morning? You couldn’t find ya hair gel?” Brock asked, taking one last puff on his cigarette, then throwing it out into the street.

“Fuck you, nigga. I got that good shit,” I said, rubbing my palm over my head full of curly black hair. “Ain’t no gel in my shit.” I opened the overhead garage door of the shop, and the three of us went inside.

“Yeah, whatever, nigga. You got that soul glow shit up in there. Every time you get up off a sofa, it’s a stain where ya head was and shit. That’s how I be knowin’ where you at all the time. I just follow the drip, nigga.”

“You just mad ’cause ya nappy-head ass can’t get bitches like this curly-head nigga get.”

“Bitches love a nappy nigga, cuz. I make them feel safe. A curly-head nigga can’t protect them, if need be. And they know that shit, too. That’s why they only fuck with ya type long enough to get pregnant by you, so they baby can have that good shit, then they wind up marryin’ a nigga like me.”

“So that means I get the pussy and you get the commitment? That sound like a plan to me.”

Brock put up his middle finger at me and then proceeded to get to work, cleaning and organizing the shop before it opened for business.

“Y’all niggas crazy,” Kenny commented.

“That be that, nigga,” I said. “But on another note, what’s up? What happened with that situation?” I turned my attention completely to Kenny.

“Let’s go in ya dad office,” Kenny said.

“Cool, but we gotta hurry up ’fore that nigga get here. You know he don’t be wantin’ mafuckas in his office when he ain’t here.”

“Yeah, especially not me,” Kenny said.

“So what happened? I see they let y’all out.”

“Yeah, man, that was crazy. But they basically gave us all court dates. But you know me, I’m goin’ have the top defense team in the city fightin’ that shit. I’ll beat the case. I ain’t worried about that.”

“That’s what’s up,” I said, rubbing my goatee. “So what got you out the bed this early in the morning? I ain’t seen you at the shop at this hour in years.”

“I need a favor.” Kenny’s favorite words slid off his tongue.

I braced myself and then asked, “What’s that?”

Kenny burst into laughter and then playfully hit me on my chest. “It ain’t nothin’ like that, nigga! Look at you gettin’ all nervous and uptight now when I tell you I need a favor.”

I laughed back but not as hard. “Naw, I just be waitin’ to hear what you want a nigga to do now, that’s all. You know how you get with ya favors. You never know what you goin’ ask me to do.”

“I know. I know. I do be comin’ up with ’em, don’t I? But naw, this is somethin’ light.”

“What’s up?”

“Won’t you ask ya pop to give my girl a gig?”

“Leah?” I asked.

“Yeah. She be buggin’ about bein’ bored and wantin’ somethin’ to do during the day. I figured I would ask y’all ’cause y’all like family, so it won’t be no long, drawn-out application process. Plus, from what I saw today, y’all could use somebody here to open this bitch up on time, ya kna mean.”

I didn’t respond right away, and Kenny felt the need to fill the dead space.

“I mean, think about it. Ask ya pop. See what he say and get back with me, that’s all.”

“All right, yeah, I’ll do that,” I said, walking Kenny out of my dad’s office and to the front door of the shop.

“Try to get him to do it, though,” Kenny added as he walked over to his car. “’Cause on top of everything, we could really use the extra
money, even if it’s just ’til we get enough for the retainer. Wouldn’t wanna have to fight this case with a PD. Shit like that’ll have niggas ready to tell on everybody just for a lighter sentence. Ya know what I’m talkin’ ’bout?”

I couldn’t help my eyebrows from bending as I deciphered what Kenny was saying. I hoped he wasn’t insinuating that if I didn’t get Leah a job, he would alert authorities that I had a part to play in that shit he got caught up in. I hoped he wasn’t taking things to that level. I mean, granted, he looked out for me in the past, and I owed him for it. But I hated that he took advantage of that fact. And I knew he felt like as long as he had something to hold over my head, he could get me to do just about anything for him. But that wasn’t the case, and I needed for him to know that before things got too out of hand. I needed to nip shit in the butt, and just as I was about to, he called himself, cleaning his shit up.

“Aww, nigga, I’m just fuckin’ witchu.” He laughed. “I wouldn’t do no shit like that. But please get my girl a gig before she nag me to death.”

I nodded. “I’m goin’ see what I can do,” I said, still feeling uneasy about the indirect threat he threw at me. He may have said he was joking, but knowing Kenny the way I did, it was no telling with that nigga. He could be a shady mothafucka sometimes.

Just as Kenny pulled out of his parking spot, my dad pulled in it. The loud roar of the Viper engine stopped abruptly as my dad turned off the ignition and hopped out the truck.

The first thing that came out my dad’s mouth was, “What was that nigga here for?”

“Oh, Kenny?”

“Yeah. What he want?”

I followed my dad in the shop, walking fast to keep up with his pace. “He didn’t want nothin’ like that. He just wanted me to ask you could you give his girl a job.”

“What? What I look like, givin’ that nigga’s girl a job? What I look like, givin’ anybody he refer a job? So they can do what he did and jeopardize not only my business but my life! He must be smokin’ dope!”

“I know. I thought the same thing. But the way he broke it down to me, it ain’t like that,” I said, beginning my attempt at trying to convince my dad otherwise.

“Yo, where’s everybody at?” my dad asked as he walked into his office. “It’s ten minutes to nine, and I ain’t got no secretary here to answer them phones that’s about to start ringing, no frame guy, no painter, not even a manager to manage the mafuckas if they was here! It look like I’m goin’ be firing a whole lot of people today!” my dad snapped.

Then Brock called out from the floor, “I’m here, Vic!”

“Yeah, just my luck. The mafuckin’ janitor the only mafucka on time in this bitch!”

I smirked at the insult and reminded myself to bust on Brock about it later. But now was the time to press my dad to give Leah a job. I mean, Kenny said he was joking about rattin’ me out if I didn’t pull strings for him on this, but I didn’t believe his words. His body language said it all. So to protect me, I figured I had to get his girl a job. Besides, Leah was cool peoples. She wasn’t the type to bring drama to the shop like my dad suspected. If anything, she could bring order.

“The thing is, Dad, Kenny’s girl need to stack a couple dollars real quick. She got some loans or somethin’ she gotta pay back,” I lied. “He said she probably won’t even be workin’ here past a few months. Plus, we could use a good secretary, as you see. And if she could open the shop, that would help, too. That way I can be out chasin’ during rush hour instead of havin’ to be here to open up.”

Brock butted in as he was emptying the trash can next to my dad’s desk. “Yes, please get somebody else to open up, ’cause he be late every mornin’ and I be freezin’ my balls off.”

“Janitors don’t talk, they sweep,” I teased Brock.

My dad sighed and said, “You vouch for this girl?”

“Yeah. She mess with Kenny, but she’s not Kenny. You know what I mean?”

“Well, I’m goin’ take ya word for it. But she’s ya responsibility. I’m goin’ need you to bring her up to speed. Even if you gotta leave the streets alone for a week or so to show her what has to be done here in the office, then that’s what you do.”

I nodded. “That’s cool.”

I started to walk out of my dad’s office, and he stopped me.

“Nas.”

I turned around. “Hah?”

“This decision better not come back to bite me in the ass.”

I shook my head and said, “Naw. It won’t.”

I left the shop, got in my black Dodge Viper pickup truck—one of four that my dad bought for all his chasers to chase out of—and on my way to post up at Fifty-second and Spruce I called Kenny.

“Tell Leah she can start Monday,” I said.

“That’s what’s up, homie. You always come through.”

“Let’s just make sure history don’t repeat itself,” I added.

“Oh naw, nigga. I ain’t got eyes in the back of my head. I ain’t worried about the past.”

“Cool.”

“All right.”

“’Bye.”

I
loaded up the dishwasher with the dirty dishes Kenny managed to fill up the sink with while I was in jail, folded the last load of clothes, swept and mopped the floors, dusted off everything, and lit a few candles.
I live in a multimillion-dollar home and don’t have a housekeeper,
I thought. That’s some ghetto shit. The last thing on my list was ordering Cajun Chicken Chesapeake for six from Bourbon Blue. Kenny would pick it up on his way in.

I was finished with everything by seven, giving me just enough time to shower and change out of my tights and oversized T-shirt and into a pair of sweats before Kenny’s company arrived at eight. He was having a meeting with his accountant and his top workers to discuss his finances and opportunities for him to merge out of the drug game and into legit business.

Usually when Kenny had meetings at the house, I would find something to do to occupy my time, which often was shopping or going to visit my mom. But this time I felt obligated to sit in on the meeting. As much as I was having second thoughts about it, I had a deal with the police, and my freedom from both jail and Kenny depended on my keeping it. So I needed to start gathering information, and what better time than at the meeting.

I heard Kenny pull up in the garage, and I greeted him at the door.

“You smell good,” he said as I hugged him.

“Thank you. So does that food,” I said, relieving Kenny of one of the bags.

I immediately started taking the containers of food out of the bags and placing everything on one big tray on the counter. I took out my Wedgwood china and the Waterford glasses. I laid out jeweled wood place mats and started setting the dining room table—half of it anyway. We didn’t need twelve settings, and to make it appear more intimate, I removed the six additional chairs we would not be using. I lifted the heavy custom wooden chairs and placed them in the adjacent study. Then I rearranged the remaining six chairs, putting three on each side of the table. That way no one person would be too far away from anyone else and there was plenty of elbow room for everyone to eat comfortably.

In the meantime Kenny freshened up. The doorbell rang just as Kenny was coming back downstairs. The guests arrived all at once, having riden together in one car, except Sammy, Kenny’s accountant, who had driven himself.

“Hey, Sammy.” I greeted him with a hug as he came in. We exchanged kisses on the cheek, and I took his tan trench coat and plaid scarf and hung them in the coat closet in the foyer.

Behind Sammy was Sky, Kenny’s transporter. Basically, he was re
sponsible for taking drugs down South and returning with money. I greeted him the same way—a hug, a kiss—and I took his coat. Next was Raj, Kenny’s best friend and right-hand man. He pretty much helped Kenny manage all his street hustlers or corner boys. Last in was Tim, Kenny’s older brother and his muscle. As a result of his frequent stints in the penitentiary, he was real buff, so his appearance alone was threatening. And he had a reputation for being ruthless and for torturing niggas. I wasn’t as enthusiastic when I greeted him as I was when I greeted the others. I never had good vibes about Tim. He rubbed me the wrong way. Maybe it was his cold, standoffish demeanor. I didn’t know. But I felt extremely intimidated by him.

Everybody sat at the table, and I served them dinner while they began their meeting. I must say I was being extra hospitable. I didn’t know if it was my nerves or what.

“All right, I’m goin’ get straight to the point, Sammy. Where the fuck is all my money goin’?” Kenny started.

“It’s all documented,” Sammy said, punching keys on his laptop. “Well, with you refinancing everybody’s houses recently your mortgage payments have gone up—”

“How much?” Kenny asked.

I tuned in myself to hear the answer. I never knew how much Kenny was paying for everybody’s mortgage. Quite frankly, I didn’t think he should have been paying anybody’s mortgage but ours. Every nigga sittin’ at this table made enough money to pay his own.

“Let’s see,” Sammy said, calling up more information on his computer. “Yours is now eighteen thousand six hundred sixty-nine dollars a month; your brother’s is now nine thousand three hundred and thirty-four a month; Roger’s and Sky’s are each seven thousand two hundred and twenty-three.”

“Shit, nigga, you pay more in mortgages than what my pop make in a year,” Raj said, seemingly proud. “How many niggas you know that’s under age thirty that can do that shit. We up, niggas!”

“You all are doing well, yes, but I don’t know if I would celebrate right now,” Sammy said. “You see, Kenny, your monthly bills are at seventy-three thousand. And for the last six months you’ve only been bringin’ in on average fifty to sixty thousand. In addition, there’s been a lot of sporadic spending over that time period, causing you to fall behind.”

“That’s fuckin’ ridiculous, though, Sammy. Why wouldn’t you give me the heads-up that I’m headin’ for broke before I actually get there? I mean, ain’t that what I pay you for?” Kenny addressed Sammy as he chomped on a forkful of pasta.

Fumbling to adjust his glasses on his face, Sammy answered, “Well, you’re not broke at all. You’re just digging into your reserves at this point. And I actually called this meeting tonight to give you the heads-up on things.”

“Okay, so what do I have in reserve?”

“You haaaave…” Sammy stretched his words as he punched more keys on his laptop. “You have two point seven million as of right now. That’s down from three point one six months ago.”

Kenny mumbled some figures and calculations then said, “So you sayin’ I spent four hundred grand in six months, in addition to my monthly bills?”

“I’m afraid so.”

The looks on a few of Kenny’s partners’ faces told me that I wasn’t the only one shocked by the accountant’s report of Kenny’s outlandish spending. I started adding stuff up in my head, trying to figure out what he had spent so much money on. Okay, granted, he treated himself to the Maserati for his twenty-fifth birthday a few months ago. That was a hundred thousand. Then there was the forty days we spent at our marina house in the Turks and Caicos for the holidays. That
was probably about a hundred and fifty grand, most of which went to the yacht he chartered. Okay, so that was a little more than half the money, but the other portion I couldn’t account for, and I couldn’t help but wonder how much of it went to other girls.

“Somethin’ gotta give, man. I can’t keep blowin’ money like this,” Kenny stated.

The mood in the room grew somber. Niggas was probably scared that Kenny was goin’ to announce that he was goin’ to have to put the brakes on payin’ all their mortgages.

But offering hope, Sammy put his finger up and said, “That’s another reason why I called this meeting tonight. I wanted to propose something to you all.”

Everybody turned to look at Sammy.

“I think you all need to consider investing, particularly in real estate. With the housing market in the sewer, it’s a good time to buy rental properties. People are losing their homes and can’t afford mortgages, but still they need a place to live. And I was just introduced to an amazing opportunity that I want to bring to you all. One of my business partner’s golf buddies is liquidating a lot of his income-producing properties. He has a package of mobile-home parks for sale…”

I looked at everybody’s reactions to Sammy’s proposal that they buy trailer parks, and, as I expected, none of them seemed interested, except for Kenny. Kenny showed interest in any ideas that led to making money—big or small.

“I know it doesn’t sound as glamorous as, say, an apartment building or condo conversions, but when you do the math, it has the potential to make more money than any of that other stuff that’s on the market right now. He has five mobile parks that he’s getting rid of for a good price, and they bring in substantial monthly income already, but that’s with the tenants occupying them at beneath-market rates. So if you put a little bit of money into them, update them some, you could raise rents and just about triple the net worth.”

A few eyebrows raised. I imagined there were dollar signs floating around in everybody’s heads.

Sammy went on, “The bottom line is, you all need to start making your money make money. And I know it’s hard because you do what you do and are trying to stay undetected as far as your assets go, but there are ways to have paper trails that are perfectly legal.”

“You talkin’ washin’ the money?” Tim asked.

Sammy nodded. “Yeah, basically.”

“Money launderin’,” Kenny mumbled, wiping his mouth with a folded napkin.

“I don’t know about that,” Raj spoke up.

“Yeah, I know, ’cause that shit can catch you up, too. Look at what happened with Irv Gotti and them,” Sky said.

Then Sammy interjected, “It’s definitely not a hundred percent foolproof. Consider it like a condom. It’s ninety-nine percent effective. The thing is, you can’t put your money behind mega superstars or big businesses that are already on the radar. You have to put it behind small ventures, low-key things that won’t raise any eyebrows or attract a lot of attention, and with the economy being in shambles right now, there are plenty small businesses that would be willing to launder your money in exchange for financial support.”

Kenny glanced over at me. “That’s why all them niggas be buyin’ their girls’ hair salons and shit. Leah, you want a hair salon?”

Hell, yeah,
I thought. Anything to put me in position to make my own money, but before I could say anything Sammy butted in, “No, that’s not smart either. Not right now. You don’t wanna put your money into something that you’re attached to. Then the question of where the money generated from still gets asked. You have to find a business that already exists and make a deal with the owner. And, of course, make sure it’s somebody you can trust.”

“And somebody you can get at easily, in case for some reason he end up being untrustworthy,” Sky added.

“The point is, once you find the business you feel comfortable with, make the owner put you on the payroll. They will start issuing you checks; you’ll really be being paid out of your own money, but it will look like it’s coming out of their business account instead of from the streets.”

Kenny nodded and seemed to be in deep thought.

“This way, you all can start using the so-called money you make from your employer”—Sammy made quotation marks with his fingers—“to put in banks and build capital, and then you can start funneling it into other things like the real estate deal I’m proposing…”

Kenny sipped his water and asked, “But will homie be willing to hold off selling the package until I clean up enough money to get them? That might take a minute.”

“Well, right now he’s willing to do owner financing, which means he will keep the properties in his name and set it up with you so you will give him a monthly payment based on the amount you would finance to buy the properties.”

“You lost me,” Kenny said.

“It would be as if he was the bank giving you the loan,” I jumped in to clarify it for Kenny.

“Exactly,” Sammy said. “He’s willing to do that for a year, which is plenty of time to clean up enough cash.”

Kenny nodded and said, “I like that idea. I think I can make that happen.”

Then the other guys nodded in agreement. I swore they were a bunch of yes sirs. If Kenny liked it, they loved it. But who was I to talk? I was in the same boat as them. I needed Kenny financially like they did, maybe even more. So just like them, I tended to go along with whatever he said.

“That could work,” I volunteered my opinion as I looked at Kenny.

“That’s the only way you’re gonna see real growth, when your
money is moving around. When it stays still in a safe or under a mattress, it starts to deplete. And if you put it in the bank, it can get frozen the minute you become the target of an investigation.”

“Speakin’ of which,” Raj said, looking at Kenny, “what the hell happened? Fuck they lock you up on?”

Aww shit,
I thought. Why did this conversation have to come up? The last thing I needed was for the question to arise about how we all got out without penalty. I didn’t know if my nerves could handle lying to all of them, especially that damn Tim. He was good at reading people, and I didn’t want him to get any ideas about me. He was the type of person who would dig and dig and dig until he found a loophole in a nigga’s story. I felt myself tensing up.

“Aww, man,” Kenny began, “I was buggin’ out for a minute, feelin’ like I was losing everything. Wound up stagin’ a accident to hustle up a couple dollars, and the corner I did it on was being surveilled by the mothafuckin’ police,” Kenny explained, almost as if he was bragging.

Everybody laughed except Tim, who maintained a serious expression. I myself chuckled. Then I stood and started gathering dishes and eating utensils to remove them from the table. I figured my action would give the hint that the meeting was over.

“This nigga got over two million in the stash, and he chasin’ car insurance claims for a few thousand dollars,” Tim commented.

“It’s easy money, nigga, and it’s quick. And I know that shit like the back of my hand, plus I got people who can help me pull it off, so that’s why I dibble in it ever so often.” Kenny paused and looked up at me as I gathered dishes. I felt him looking at me, and I shot him a quick smile. “But not no more. I’m cool on all that now. I ain’t tryna put my girl in a position like that again. Plus, the money ain’t worth the headache.”

“I don’t see why you thought it was worth it to begin with, brah. If you needed a few thousand, what was wrong with diggin’ in ya stash?”

Kenny jumped to his own defense, “Naw see, I got a system. I give Sammy money every month, and he go ’head and pay all my bills. If it’s ever short, he got permission to take it out of my reserves. Then I keep a stash for myself, for my pocket. And I started noticin’ my pocket money dwindling. And I don’t wanna stop givin’ Sammy what I’m givin’ him for my bills, ’cause then he goin’ dig more and more into my reserves, and once that’s gone, I’m cracked, havin’ to start over from the bottom. So whenever I see my pocket money gettin’ low, that’s when I start scramblin’ around tryin’ to hustle some money up real quick,” Kenny explained.