Eve (24 page)

 

Felon was awakened from his peaceful slumber by his cell phone ringing. He popped up, almost forgetting where he was, but relaxed when he saw Eve lying next to him, sound asleep. He smiled at her, remembering the mind-blowing sex they had just engaged in. If it were up to him, he would've lain there with her forever, but seeing Teddy's number in the caller ID meant that business needed to be attended to.

“Yo,” Felon said into the phone. As soon as Teddy began speaking, Felon's face became grim. He listened intently as the young gunner ran down his suspicions. Felon didn't like what he was hearing.

“A'ight,” he said. “Stay on that nigga. If he's dirty, snatch his ass up. One.” Felon ended the call and resumed his position next to Eve.

The next afternoon Butter sat in his apartment, seething. He had been embarrassed and betrayed, all at the same time. Whenever he thought about it, he saw Cassidy's nonchalant demeanor and Carlo's smug-ass grin. At the time, he wanted nothing more than to kill them both where he stood, but what would it have solved? Carlo would still have one up on him, and Cassidy would still be a snake in the grass. She would get what was coming to her, just like everyone else.

“What's good?” Teddy asked, walking up on Butter.

“Shit,” Butter answered without turning around.

“Man, you've been looking out that window for hours. Fuck is you trying to do, spot the Goodyear blimp?” Teddy's attempt at humor went totally over Butter's head. Seeing that wasn't working, he tried a different approach. “Yo, I checked that kid Dre out. The boy is looking real suspect. Seen him talking to some motorcycle nigga that I didn't recognize. I think the kid is filthy.”

“You still on that shit?” Butter asked in a very uninterested tone. “Dre ain't bout shit. Ain't nobody tried nothing lately either.” Butter went back to looking out the window.

“Yo, kid, whether you know it or not, it's a lot of animosity coming your way from the streets right now. You and Felon done officially made it. You think muthafuckas is happy to see that? You better look at the writing on the wall, cousin.”

“Teddy, you better stop letting Felon fill your head with that bullshit. I'm a fucking accident waiting to happen. Niggaz ain't stupid enough to try me again. You only get one chance. Besides, I got other shit on my mind. Can't believe this backstabbing bitch,” he groaned.

“If I was you, I'd get my head in the game, son. Fuck what happened with that bitch.”

“What you mean by that?” Butter asked, turning a questioning glare at Teddy.

“Nothing.” Teddy looked away. “All I'm saying is, you gotta keep a clear head about this. I know how you feel about shorty, but let's not forget what's going on out here. Somebody tried to off you, kid.”

Butter snorted. “Teddy, go head with that shit. Homey wasn't the first nigga who tried me, and he won't be the last. But you know what? Everybody that comes for a piece of me, is gonna end up just like that clown on One hundred and twenty-fifth.”

“Butter, man, I just think—”

“Yo, we don't keep you around to think,” Butter said, cutting him off. “You acting like this bitch got me slipping or something. I'm still that nigga, and that ain't never gonna change. Every muthafucka has their day. Fuck that bitch and fuck these sucka-ass niggaz out here.” Butter turned on Teddy with murder in his eyes. For a second, Teddy wasn't sure if Butter was gonna wild out or not. To his relief, Butter just grabbed his sweatshirt and stormed out of the apartment.

 

Officer Andy Lapelsky was a third-rate cop and a top-notch degenerate. In addition to being a lousy husband, miserable father, and a gambler who was constantly in the red, Andy was a drug addict. This is the reason why he found his rest being broken in the wee hours of the morning.

Rolling over and clicking on the light, Andy fumbled with the phone. He rubbed a freckled hand across his eye and croaked into the receiver, “Yeah?”

Hearing the voice on the other end, he immediately sat up. The speaker wasn't frantic or even shaken, considering what Andy had just heard. He banged his fist against his forehead and cursed the caller in a hushed tone so as not to wake his wife. After mumbling a few instructions into the receiver, Andy hung up.

As if his life weren't already complicated enough, he had to get himself into debt to make it worse. Andy was in debt to quite a few people, and one of them had just called in a favor. Andy would've loved to tell the caller to piss off and refuse any part of it, but he didn't have the heart. Instead he began to put a plan together.

He gently slipped from the bed and grabbed his pants and shirt. He crept from the bedroom and dressed in the hall. Normally he would've awakened his wife to tell he was leaving, but he hadn't had ample time to come up with an excuse. He would have one for her when he returned in the morning.

 

Eugene Benett was a landmark in the Hunts Point area of the Bronx. For the last few years, he could be found roaming the back alleys and lots, rummaging through the trash. On good nights, the pimps and would pay him to watch their cars and the hoes would tip him to play lookout while they turned their tricks. Between that and his other hustles, Eugene made enough money to keep his belly full and stay high.

He had just left the gas station, raiding their garbage for cans. It was a dry night, but he had enough to get his fix. Dragging his cart full of junk behind him, Eugene cut down the back street to see where he could score a high. At the end of an alley he spotted a sofa and several piles of old clothes someone had tossed out. Eugene moved hurriedly to the rubble to see what he could recover. If he was lucky, he'd be able to get the good stuff before any of the other homeless people could pick it over.

Apparently it had been a lover's spat. There were boxes with men's clothes spilling out of them. Bad luck for the poor slob who was running around the city half naked. Good luck for Eugene who was in need of a new wardrobe. Amongst the clothes were several garbage bags. Prying one of them open, Eugene found more clothes. When he moved to the second bag, he caught a glimpse of something beneath it. At first he couldn't make out what it was, but when he reached out to touch it, he immediately jerked his hand back. It was a nipple.

Every fiber of his being told him to bolt, but natural curiosity made him push the bag aside. Beneath the pile of trash he discovered a body. Eugene almost threw up as he looked at the battered corpse of a young woman. Her face was bruised and a deep gash ran along her temple. Eugene staggered back and ran from the alley, screaming.

 

Carlo came strolling out of his building reading the
Daily News.
Sal brought up his rear, his eyes sweeping the block, looking for an invisible foe. Big Steve leaned against the car, smoking a cigarette, looking at his watch.

“What's up, Steve?” Carlo asked, sniffling.

“I've been waiting for a half hour, man,” Steve said, a little irritated.

“I was tying up some loose ends,” Carlo smiled, climbing into the backseat.

“I'll bet,” Steve said, walking around to the driver's side.

“Say, did that spook Johnny Black finish the job yet?”

“Not that I know of. Dre told me he flexed on him though.”

“Dre probably shot his mouth off to the kid. That fucking Outlaw is a mean son of a bitch.” Carlo laughed.

“Carlo, why didn't you just deal with Johnny yourself instead of doing it through Dre?”

“Guilt by association, pal.” Carlo smiled. “It wouldn't look good on me if my partner found out that I got his boy clipped, would it? Besides, it's more fun watching niggers cut each other down in the streets.” He erupted into laughter.

“Fucking asshole.” Steve mumbled.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” Steve grumbled, “I just got some shit on my mind.”

“Whatever. Geez, smells like pine in here.”

“I took the car to get washed,” Steve reminded him. “Where're we going?”

“I dunno. I feel like partying.” Carlo smiled. “Let's roll through that spot in Queens. I hear that got a lotta fine black broads in there. How bout it, Sal?” Carlo addressed his cousin. Sal just shrugged.

Big Steve glared at the two Italians through the rearview mirror. He hated how Carlo and people like him played gangsta in the streets. Where he came from cats grinded because they had to. In Carlo's fucked-up circle, they played gangster, emulating the old heads. The age of the real mobster was surely dying out if worms like Carlo could come to power.

And was Steve any better? There was nothing fake about his gangsta, but he worked for a sick little fuck. He had always known Carlo was a snake, but watching him move lately, he was beneath even a snake. Still he served him. When Steve had taken the job he had been promised wealth and power. He no idea that it would come at the price of his soul.

 

Eve's latest job assignment was at an office building. She worked at a shipping company several days a week, answering phones and running errands. The days were usually pretty light, limiting her duties to fielding a few phone calls and an occasional coffee run. Her boss didn't stress her about how she dressed, so she was allowed the luxury of showing up in jeans and Timberlands. The arrangement was perfect for her.

For the last couple of days, she had been trying to busy herself with work. She went to work and came home, limiting the time she spent on the block. Her girls would try and coax her to hang, but she would shoot them down with an excuse. Eve didn't mean to alienate her click, but she had things on her mind that she needed to sort out.

Ever since she had given herself to Felon, she had been avoiding him like the plague. When he called her cell, she sent him to voice mail. When he called her house, she wouldn't pick up. He had even gone as far as calling Uncle Bobby's line, but Eve had made him lie and say she wasn't there.

No matter how much she ducked him, she couldn't seem to get him out of her mind. She was a jumble of nerves about the whole thing. Having sex with Felon was a mistake for several reasons, none of which mattered at the time. Eve prided herself on strength and self-control. Felon had managed to break through her shell and she gave in. It wasn't like he had taken advantage of her, but she felt awkward about it. She tried to look at him in that same brotherly light, but things had changed, as she knew they would.

She wanted to be with Felon, but it would never work. It was common knowledge that he and Butter had dozens of groupies running around the five boroughs. Eve wasn't into competition, nor was she into fighting over a man. She was above that, but she knew it would only be a matter of time before she would've had to slap a bitch for getting out of pocket.

Next to a relationship ruining their friendship, Eve was her own biggest obstacle. She had some serious emotional issues that she wasn't ready to address yet. Her whole life had been one big tragedy and it left a deep scar on her soul. She had to sort her feelings out and work on overcoming these things before she could complement someone else. What she and Felon shared was great, but until she got herself together they couldn't be.

Another unresolved situation was what had happened between Cassidy and Butter. Just as Eve had predicted, it blew up in her face. She felt bad for Cassidy getting caught up, but she felt worse for Butter. To say that he was embarrassed wouldn't even do it justice. Cassidy and Carlo's relationship coming out the way it did was ugly. Butter was hurt, so there was no telling what he would do.

Eve could remember the smug look on Carlo's face when the shit hit the fan. His blue eyes shone with triumph as he watched Butter stagger from the lounge. Eve hadn't missed that. It was the first time she had seen Carlo in person, and she found herself just as uneasy as when she was looking at the pictures. Something radiated from him that made her very uncomfortable.

Eve opened the newspaper, trying to take her mind off the whirlwind her life was turning into. As soon as she opened the paper, she wished she hadn't. The newspaper never seemed to report anything good. All you ever read about were murders, homelessness, and other depressing issues.

Just under a story about the FBI hiring the mob to dig up some graveyard, a highlighted piece caught Eve's eye. The article was so small that she might have missed it. “Prostitute Found Slain,” the headline read. A homeless man found the body of a young woman somewhere in the Bronx. She had been raped and beaten, then her body had been stuffed under some garbage bags on a side street. Not wanting to read anymore, Eve flipped the page.

What kind of city was New York becoming if women could be murdered at random like that? Granted, the girl was a prostitute, so it was partially her fault, but what gave someone the right to do that? It was spooky to think just how easy it was for some sick fuck to prey on you in the city. And people wondered why she carried heat.

Putting the paper down, Eve decided to give Cassidy a call. She remembered that she hadn't spoken to her since the incident. Even though she was ducking most of her phone calls, she couldn't remember Cassidy's being among them. She figured that Cassidy was still tight over what happened. She couldn't blame anyone but herself for it, though. Eve decided to reach out to her and see where her head was at.

After the fourth ring, Cassidy's voice mail clicked on. Eve tried her one more time with the same result. It wasn't unusual for Cassidy not to answer her cell if she was with a guy, but she usually picked up for her.

The next call she placed was to Cassidy's house. Sheeka picked up on the third ring. Eve made small talk, then inquired about Cassidy. Sheeka informed her that she hadn't seen her sister in a day or so. She told Eve about Cassidy getting the late-night phone call and not being there when she woke up the next morning. Sheeka suggested that Cassidy might be shacked up with some cat, and told Eve she'd have her call if she spoke to her.

Eve hung up the phone and stared out the dingy window. It wasn't unlike Cassidy to disappear for days at a time, but she would've at least left word with someone that she was all right. Sheeka hadn't seen her and Cassidy wasn't picking up her phone. Suddenly the hairs on the back of Eve's neck began to stand up.

 

When Eve got off work, she stopped by her house to change clothes. She was meeting Sheeka and Beast so they could roll to the movies. Cassidy was still MIA, and she still wasn't taking Felon's calls. She was worried sick, and her heart was pulling her in a million different directions at once, but other than that, life was peachy.