Harlem Girl Lost (34 page)

Mouth dropping open in shock, Hollis looked at everyone, now suspiciously eyeing him. He jumped to his feet. “Oh, hell, naw!” he denied. “That bitch is lying!”

“Fuck that shit, motherfucker. You think I was just gonna stand by and let them kill me? Fuck that! Before I go out, I'm taking your black ass with me!”

Papone turned to glare at Hollis. Hollis broke out in a sweat.

“Yo, Pap man, I know you ain't gonna believe this bitch.” Papone remained silent, and Hollis looked at Silver. “You yellow fucking bitch, I'm gonna—”

Hollis reached for his gun to shoot her, but Papone's men
quickly pulled out their guns, subdued him, and took the weapon away from him.

“You see?” Silver yelled. “That's the second time he's tried to kill me so I couldn't tell the truth about his lying ass!”

Hollis nervously pleaded, “Papone, think, man—think! What kind of proof does she have to base this shit on? She's just trying to save her own ass.”

Silver glared at him. “You want proof, motherfucker? All right, here's proof. “ She turned toward Papone and explained. “He made a deal to sell the drugs to some Dominican guy from Washington Heights named Flaco something, for one million dollars. After he sold the drugs, he was supposed to meet me in Miami in two days. I bought the tickets myself. If you don't believe me, check his pockets!”

Papone nodded to his men to check Hollis. One of the men reached inside his pocket and pulled out a plane ticket. Hollis stared at it as if it were a snake. The man handed it to Papone, who slowly opened it.

“Flight 263 to Miami … one way.”

“Oh, hell, naw … hell naw!” Hollis cried. He glanced up. “Shit! That bitch musta planted that shit on me!”

Silver didn't miss a beat. “I guess I planted some of the drugs in your office safe, too, huh?” She turned to Papone. “And there's only one person who has keys to that, too!”

Hollis looked around fearfully, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Get his keys!” Papone ordered. A man reached inside Hollis’ pants and pulled them out. He stepped inside Hollis’ office, and the moment grew tense as Papone waited. When the man
came out, Hollis'jaw dropped open and his knees buckled. The man carried an armload of bundled drugs, the same drugs they had gotten out of the cargo van earlier.

“He said the rest of it he was gonna hide under the dance floor,” Silver offered.

The men immediately went to work on the dance floor and found the remaining kilos.

Hollis watched as they pulled out kilo after kilo. All he could do was shake his head in disbelief. “This don't make no sense! I don't even know nobody named Flaco! They are setting me the fuck up! Can't you see that?”

Papone stared at Hollis. “We'll see,
amigo …
we'll see.” Pa-pone reached inside his jacket pocket, pulled out his cell phone, and dialed a number. He looked at Silver, then at Hollis. “Me and El Flaco go back some years. We'll see who's lying in a moment.”

Silver tensely watched Papone dial the number, hoping no one would answer.

“Holla,”
Papone said. “Let me speak to El Flaco … Dis is Papone from the East Side.” A few moments passed.
“Hola, amigo
, dis is Papone … Yes … Yes … Very long time … Listen, I have my man here who said he got a big package for you. I just making sure I don't step on de wrong toes.” He listened intently, looked at Hollis, and nodded. “Yes, a
nigrito
named Hollis … No,
amigo
, everything is okay. Thank you.” He hung up.

On the other end of the phone Diego slowly hung up the phone and wiped his brow in relief.

“See?” Silver said. “What did I tell you? And the motherfucker
wasn't finished, either. He said after he sold the drugs, he was gonna kill you!” She quickly reached inside her pocket, pulled out a mini recorder, and pressed play
“Fuck that fat fuckin spic. I'm just using Papone's ass to get where I got to go. As soon as I get my shit right, I'm gonna take his ass out, too!”

As Hollis listened to his voice on the tape, he looked like he was going to be sick. Suddenly he deftly cuffed a knife into his hand, and without warning took quick aim and tossed the deadly blade with expert precision straight at Silver.

Silver froze in horror as she watched the flash of the blade, but then from out of nowhere, she was knocked off her feet and out of harm's way. Stunned by the shove, she fell heavily to the floor as two of Papone's men shot Hollis dead. He dropped to the floor, with blood spewing from his chest. Silver glanced over her shoulder and saw Missy lying on the floor a short distance away, a knife deeply embedded in her chest.

The front and rear doors crashed open, startling everyone, as a score of FBI and DEA agents rushed inside, pointing high-tech weapons.

Silver crawled to her friend and lifted her head into her lap. “Missy!” She began to cry wrenching sobs. “Oh, God, Missy, what have you done? I told you to leave!” She frantically lifted her head and yelled, “I need some help!” She hunched over her friend again. “Hold on, Missy, hold on. Help is on the way real soon.”

Missy looked up at Silver. “Silver, I'm sorry for what I did to you … will you forgive me?”

Blinking back her tears, Silver nodded. “I forgive you, girl, but don't worry about that now.”

Blood began to drip from Missy's mouth, and she began to gag. She looked at Silver and spoke, her voice whisper-soft. “Silver, I don't think I'm gon’ make it … I feel cold.”

Silver hugged her tighter. “Don't talk. You gonna be fine, you be fine.”

Missy looked up at her and smiled. “We did that shit, didn't we?”

Wiping tears away, Silver nodded. “Yeah, we did it, we did it.”

“I didn't lie to you,” Missy gasped.

“Lie about what?” Silver asked past the growing lump in her throat.

“I told you I would die for you.”

Silver watched in despair as Missy's eyes slowly began to close. Silver gently stroked her hair.

“Silver … Silver?”

“I'm here, Missy.”

Gazing into Silver's eyes, Missy managed a tremulous smile. “Oh, yeah … I love you, bitch.”

Silver shook with grief and gently touched Missy's still lips with the tip of a trembling finger. “I love you too, hoe,” she said, and wept.

Squads of armed agents
had Papone and the rest of the men handcuffed. They confiscated the drugs and took pictures. As the coroner left with Missy's and Hollis’ bodies, Detectives Squassoni and McBeth stood by Silver's side, their expressions somber. Slowly, Silver removed the wire she had worn and handed it to Squassoni.

From the very beginning, Silver had figured out a way to save her man and manage to do it in a way that didn't compromise her morals or the promise she had made to her mother years earlier never to deal the poison to anyone. Silver had not told anyone in her crew that she was cooperating with the police, not even Chance. But before she cooperated with the police, Silver had been smart enough, with Detective Squas-soni's guidance, to get full immunity at the city, state, and federal levels, just in case. Everything that had been spoken from the hotel conversations and Hollis’ club had been recorded and turned over to the feds, who now had enough incriminating evidence to put Papone away for life. The authorities also had enough evidence to have the charges against Chance dropped. In addition to the confession Hollis had made on tape, he was also implicated in nearly three dozen other murders throughout Harlem and other boroughs, compliments of the cell phone that Diego had given him and told him to carry around at all times. In addition to it being a cell phone, it was also a high-tech bugging device that Silver had requested from the DEA. They had listened to hours of Hollis bragging about past and present murders and contract hits. Chance was right when he said that Hollis’ Kryptonite was women and his mouth.

The DEA never
recovered the two million in drug exchange money, and Papone wasn't about to make claims on it—that would have hit him with federal income tax charges. Instead, Silver divided the money with the friends who had risked their lives to help her. Silver gave Chubbs’ four brothers a hundred
thousand dollars apiece, but Chubbs declined his share of the money, saying everything he had done had been out of love. Silver tried to force him to take it, but he didn't budge. Seeing his reluctance, she asked him if he would give it to his sister, Vonda. Jesse had always told Silver how grateful she was for Vonda. Chubbs smiled and said that he would. As they hugged and parted, Chubbs turned, grabbed his crotch, and looked Silver up and down while licking his lips. “There's one thing you can do for me.” Silver looked suspicious and said, “What is it, Goddaddy?” Chubbs grinned. “Did Jesse ever teach you how to cook lima beans?”

Silver gave Beasley
two hundred thousand dollars. The first thing he did was sell his business, pack up, and move back to his native land of Jamaica. He bought a modest house in the hills and lived off the fat of the land, or rather smoked it.

Diego also declined any money. He no longer needed it because the properties and businesses that his father had left him wound up being million-dollar mansions and interests in a popular hotel and casino resort in the Dominican Republic.

Silver gave Missy the loveliest and most expensive funeral ever. Hundreds of former schoolmates and friends attended. Silver also moved Missy's family out of the projects and purchased them a four-family brownstone in a nice, tree-lined section of Strivers’ Row in Harlem, because Missy had always said that to break the perpetual ghettoness in her family they would have to move out of the projects first.

They renamed the Children's House after Missy. Missy's
mother, grandmother, and little sisters started working at Missy's House full time as counselors for drug-addicted teens and runaway girls, and set up a foundation in her name.

Silver donated the remaining portion of the money to various charities throughout the city, mostly to drug prevention agencies and battered women's shelters. Because of an assortment of rewards involved in many now-solved murders, Silver was given a total of $223,000 by local and federal agencies that she would use toward her medical school tuition.

Chance was released from prison to recover further from his injuries. When he got out, word on the street was that both King Papone and Mafia associates had a contract out on his head. He felt it was only right that he tell Silver before they got married, so they decided to pack up and move to Atlanta to start life anew. Birdie cried for nearly two days until Silver and Chance asked him if he wanted to come along, an offer that he tearfully accepted.

REAL GANGSTAS MOVE IN SILENCE

M
itts loitered silently on the corner as he watched the moving men pack the last of Birdie's furniture. He looked up at the third-floor window and saw Chance staring out the window as the moving men pulled down the truck door. Gritting his teeth, Mitts looked around nervously before deciding that it was time to make his move, and hobbled toward the building with his hands inside his coat pockets, looking cautiously over his shoulder.

After they finished
packing the last of Birdie's stuff, Birdie looked around at the now empty apartment. Silver knew he felt sad and nostalgic. He had lived in that same apartment for over twenty years.

“I know how you feel, Auntie, I'm gonna miss this place, too. But there's nothing left for us here.”

Birdie swiped at his eyes. “You're right, baby, but I was just thinking about all the good years I had here with you and your mother.”

Silver hugged him. “You still got me, Auntie, and we're always gonna be together from now on.”

A knock on the door interrupted them.

“That must be the moving men with the bill,” Birdie said.

He went to answer the door, and Chance walked over to Silver and gave her a big hug and a kiss. Silver looked at him. “I can't believe we are actually leaving.” He hugged her around the waist and planted a kiss on her forehead.

“Believe it, Mrs. Haze. By this time tomorrow we'll be in sunny Atlanta!” As if in afterthought, he frowned. “I thought you said you paid the moving men already.”

“I did,” Silver said. Chance shrugged and then began gathering Birdie's remaining luggage.

Just then, Birdie walked into the living room with a strange look on his face. Silver and Chance paused. “Auntie, what's wrong?” she asked.

Birdie tried to speak, but no words came out of his mouth. Suddenly, he collapsed to his knees and fell to the ground. Silver screamed when she saw the ice pick embedded in the back of his neck. From out of nowhere, a man appeared at the door, holding a pistol. Silver stared, not believing her eyes, but Chance chuckled softly and spoke.

“You've been supplying me heroin all these years.” He sighed. “A.O. always told me that real gangstas moved in silence.”

Silver was confused. The real kingpin of Harlem was none other than Stickbroom Johnny?

“Stickbroom, why don't you let her go? She has nothing to do with this.”

Toothless Stickbroom Johnny frowned. “Nothing to do with it? Nothing to do with it?” he repeated. “This skank bitch is the reason why I no longer have a bidness! Before that shit with the feds went down, everything went smooth, it was perfect. Then this yellow cunt come along and threw ya ass some of her funky lil’ coochie, an’ you got ya nose wide fuckin’ opened and fucked everything up!” He shook his head. “If you learnt one thing from A.O., boy, you should have learnt that every nigger that made big money in this bidness was brought to their knees by a fuckin’ woman! And nigger, you ain't no fuckin’ exception!”

“Come on, man,” Chance said. “I was loyal to you and the fucking Italians for years; I never even took one red cent, man!”

Stickbroom only laughed. “For you to be so smart, you sho’ is one stupid motherfucka! Ain't no fuckin’ Italians been dealing dope in Harlem for over thirty year, dumb nigga!”

“But A.O. told me—” Chance stopped.

“A.O. told you what?” Stickbroom prompted coldly.

“He told me that he and his older brother was working directly with the Mafia …” Silver looked from one to the other, heart racing with dread. Then Chance smiled. “You're A.O.'s older brother.”