Crazy Summer (33 page)

“Borrow my knife? Fo’ what?” he asked seriously.

Angelo walked to the door and glanced through the window out into the dayroom. His hands were trembling. He finally faced Bookie again. “Dat nigga Chestnut asked me to put some lotion on his back.”

Bookie’s entire demeanor changed. He folded his arms across his chest and slowly breathed through his nose.

“Did you do it?” His eyes were cold, and they beamed directly at Angelo.

“Hell naw, I ain’t do it.”  His voice rose a little.

Even under pressure, Bookie appeared calm and cool. He knew Chestnut personally because they’d bumped heads several times in the past. Chestnut was known as a chain gang vet and was considered a predator. He preyed on the weak. Hell, the strong, too.

With no more questions asked, Bookie strapped up in his state issued boots, state stripes, and a sweatshirt. Angelo leaned against the wall while Bookie got dressed, watching Bookie with a look of nervousness in his eyes.

“Man, I don’t want ‘chu to get in no trouble,” Angelo had said.

Summer slowly massaged Bookie’s neck, his back pressed against her breast. He was relaxed and smoking a Newport, when their business cell phone rang. The ringtone played an old cut from DMX. Summer pressed the send button.

“Hello,” she answered softly.

“Does the name Marcus Cook ring a bell?” the voice asked from the other end.

Summer thought for a moment. A bewildered look masked her face. “Hold for a second,” she said and then whispered to Bookie, “You know anybody by the name of Marcus Cook?”

Without hesitation, he nodded his head. “Yeah.”

Summer spoke back into the phone. “Strong possibility.”

“Okay, listen,” the voice said sharply. “Three weeks ago, this guy got jammed up in Statesboro, Georgia, with seven keys of cocaine. Apparently, he was coming from Florida. Anyway, he’s out and said he’ll cooperate with the DEA. I thought I’d let you know.”

“Good. We’ll check into it,” she said. “And thanks.” Summer pressed the end button and placed the phone down. “Does he work for us?” she asked Bookie.

“He used to.”

“Do you think he could link us to a conspiracy or anything drug related?”

Before he could answer, a loud clap of thunder ripped through the air. Summer flinched, but Bookie continued to casually smoke his cigarette.

“It ain’t nothin’ that can’t be handled.” He blew out a stream of smoke and flipped his head backwards. Staring at Summer upside down, he asked, “Do you wanna hear the rest of the story?”

“Of course,” she whispered while placing her hands wrapped around his chest.

“Where were we?” he asked her.

“At the part when Angelo said he didn’t want you to get in no trouble,” Summer said.

Bookie moved to the rear of the cell.

“Catch the door,” he told Angelo.

Angelo went to the door, nervousness played all over his face. Bookie slid out his bunk and quickly unsnapped the metal cover over the heater that lined the back wall. This is where he kept his prison-made straight razor and a hard piece of steel for a shank. Bookie removed them both and placed them on the metal desk. The metal cover was snapped back on and the bed pushed back into place.

From the cell door, Angelo could see the Sally port downstairs. When the officer entered the dorm, Angelo told him immediately for any mistakes. Unfortunately, this day wasn’t planned. However, he was trained to go. The officer was making his rounds, peeping through every door, making sure nobody was violating the rules.

“He’s three doors down,” Angelo whispered and moved to the desk.

When the officer got to the door, Bookie was standing in the mirror over the sink pretending he was examining his tongue and teeth. The officer looked in and then continued past the room. Bookie went to the door. The officer was on his way back downstairs.

Looking at Angelo, Bookie told him, “Stay here until I get back.” 

He left the cell, closed the door behind him, and casually strolled down the top range. He saw Chestnut downstairs at his favorite table playing chess against an older white guy who was sleeved out in tattoos. Bookie got to the stairs, and within seconds, he was at the bottom. Other guys stood around watching television, gambling, and working out. Bookie had a real cocky swagger and an attitude to match it. He prayed he wouldn’t have to slice Chestnut’s throat. Just don’t get fly out your mouth, Chestnut, he thought.

He got to the table where Chestnut and the white guy were sitting. The game seemed intense and carefully organized.

Bookie placed a hand on Chestnut’s shoulder, leaned down, and whispered in his ear, “I need to holla at ‘cha real quick.”

Chestnut was in deep concentration; his eyes never left the board. It was his move, and he wanted it to be the right one. Just when his hand was about to move a piece, Bookie swept his hand across the board and cleared the entire table. Chestnut stood up with a twisted, angry look.

“Get a room, nigga!” he shouted at Bookie.

Inside cell 204, Bookie took the back wall. There were no words exchanged. Chestnut produced a piece of fence similar to an ice pick. He charged Bookie first, stabbing him in his chest and stomach. He swung fiercely before suddenly feeling his stomach unzip. He never saw the razors Bookie had, but he knew something was wrong. Chestnut didn’t stop. He figured since he was stronger and bigger he could take more pain. He charged forward again and punched a hole in Bookie’s neck. Blood flung across the room. The battle didn’t last five minutes.

Summer and Bookie were in the shower together, the hot water spraying over the both of them. Bookie carefully ran a soapy washcloth over Summer’s back. She massaged her nipples while relaxing in Bookie’s arm. Her eyes blinked open when he stopped talking. She turned and faced him.

“So what happened after that?”

“Hmph…I got stuck fo’ nothin’, and I cut Chestnut fo’ nothin’. I stayed in the hole for fo’ months, and by the time I got out, Angelo had been flipped inside out. And he wasn’t forced to do it.”

“So all that was for nothing?”

“Not really. It was jus’ a lesson I learned.”

“Um hum. So what about me?” Her eyes searched his. She was definitely looking for something. She wanted him to open up to her, and she wanted to do the same for him.

Bookie’s fingers massaged her small waist. He had to be delicate with her considering she’d been shot. “I got a position to play, Summer. I’m not really tryin’ to get caught up wit’ no drama….”

“Drama like what?” she asked sharply. “All my kids like you. My mama adores you. And I wanna be loved…by you.”

A small grin played across his face. “I should be able to handle that.”

“Good, because I wasn’t about to take no for an answer. Now what about this guy you know?”

“Yeah…Cook. I’ma deal wit’ it.”

They stepped out of the shower and towel dried themselves. Before they left, Terry Pate had brought in close to four hundred thousand dollars. He dumped it from a duffel bag and nearly covered the bed.

“Face ‘em up, Jermaine, and drop his ass off!” someone screamed from the packed bleachers in the high school gym.

Jermaine dribbled casually, his huge hands cupping the ball every time he switched. He had the vision of his brother on the wing with a man tightly guarding him. The twins made eye contact, and before you knew it, Jeremy had taken off and was airborne toward the goal. Jermaine released the ball to his brother on the alley, and when he dunked it, the crowd went crazy.

  On the left side of the gym, a scout from Duke University had been observing carefully. The twins were top priority. They were a hot prospect, and everybody knew it. On the other side, another scout from University of North Carolina took notes and pictures on a laptop computer and a high-powered camera. He peered through his binoculars and scanned the other side of the gym. He looked at his opponent, who was dressed in a brown suit, white shirt, and a tie. He watched him get up and make his way toward Summer and Bookie. That’s when he picked up his cell phone and dialed a number. The Bluetooth device was hooked around his ear, and the binoculars were still up at his eyes. He saw Summer pick up her cell just as the scout from Duke shook hands with Bookie.

“Hello,” her voice said through his Bluetooth.

“Ms. McKey, how are you doing? I’m Richard Singletary, a scout from University of North Carolina, and our school is very interested in your sons.”

He saw her smile flash beautifully before him. Then her words cracked through the Bluetooth.

“Both of my boys are in their sophomore year, and we’ve had calls and visits from nearly every college on the East Coast. However, I do want the best for my boys, and I mean the best. Unfortunately, I told them that I’d let them decide as long as their grades are up to my standards.”

“Our university produces some of the best. Might I remind you that Michael Jordan graduated from North Carolina, and he’s crème de la crème. The best of the best.”

“I understand that, Mr. Singletary. Check back with me by the summer.”

“I’ll do that, but make sure you keep us in mind. The best of the best.”

The line disconnected.

After Summer sent the scout for Duke on his way, they continued to watch the game. The twins ran the floor. They could play nearly every position and had intimidating defense. When the game was over, Jermaine had scored twenty-seven points, five blocks and eight assists, while Jeremy made twenty-nine points, four blocks, and seven steals. They would definitely be trouble in the future, especially if they were on the same team.

The following week there was a grand opening for Summer’s hotel. She’d arranged for television publicity and major radio play. The girls who worked at her club were being escorts that day. Several sleek limousines filled the parking lot, all driven by uniformed chauffeurs. The ballroom was overcrowded, guests were everywhere, and everybody was casually dressed. Summer and Bookie were dressed as twins in black pinstripe tailor-made suits and black silk ties. They were the shit and looked unstoppable together. Everyone else had to wear white. Terry Pate stood near the rear in a white tuxedo and white gators. He was aware of everything and enjoyed his job.

Summer mingled through the crowd. Her elegant eyes were behind an expensive pair of Cartier platinum frames. She shook hands with several people who commented on how much they loved her hotel. Her appearance attracted males and females, and that was a big advantage she had. Another guy appeared, emerging from the crowd. He was handsome with wavy hair and intelligent eyes. An evenly trimmed goatee wrapped around his lips. He extended a hand toward Summer. She admired his cream linen two-piece suit. She noticed a diamond sparkling from his pinky finger when his hand swallowed hers.