Heartbreak of a Hustler's Wife: A Novel (15 page)

With five acres of pure unadulterated automobile opulence, Des’s Grown-Man Toy Store was arguably the most fashionable and upscale spot on the East Coast to buy, or accessorize, a whip.

A maze of aisles, between bumper-to-bumper BMWs, Mercedes, Jaguars, Lexuses, Audis, Porsches and Range Rovers eventually led to a huge air-conditioned warehouse that housed only the best of the best exotic vehicles—from Lamborghinis to Ferraris to vintage classics. All roads led to the most important place on the lot, the main building, where the business and negotiations went down.

Inside the main building was a six-car showroom, and off to the right of a rose-colored Maserati a hallway opened to a full-service espresso machine with bottled waters stacked from floor to ceiling. About fifty feet past a station to make coffee and tea,
the hall came to an abrupt end at a solid oak door. Behind that door, an important meeting was in progress.

Des sat behind a grand mahogany desk. “What have we found?” he asked his trusty men. He was tired of being on the defensive; it was time to get active and find out anything that would lead him to the people responsible for trying to take his life and the empire he’d built.

On the other side of the room Slim and Stanka sat on a leather sofa. Mo sat in one of the oversized chairs to the right of the sofa, and Black Bob, head lowered in his hands, sat in the one to the right. Chip stood nervously in the corner. He was raised in the hood but he wasn’t a street dude by a long shot. Not like the others. His expertise lie in computers, and with a bachelor’s degree in progressive finance, it was natural for him to take on the role of treasurer. Although when those two gunmen held a nickel-plated pistol to his dome and forced him to wire away Des’s money with the click of a button, it was a job he probably wished he never had.

“Don’t everyone speak at once,” Des said after receiving no response. He knew that Black Bob was still mourning the death of his little brother, Tony. Shit, everybody was feeling the loss. Des had known the brothers since grade school. They were two neglected kids with a chip on their shoulders, and Joyce had basically taken them in once she found out their mother cared more about drinking than feeding her kids.

Stanka was the first to shoot his opinion into the fire. “I think they may’ve been from out of town.” He looked up. “If it was local, it would’ve gotten out.”

Des hadn’t known Stanka as long as the others, but he trusted Yarni’s uncle and valued his wisdom.

“I’m not too sure about that,” Slim disagreed.

Des didn’t believe the gunmen were from out of town either, but he held his theories to himself, for now.

“Why, Slim?” Des pushed his oldest and closest friend to continue.

“They were too comfortable,” Slim said with his fingers fixed under his chin like a steeple. “When a person is in a strange city doing dirt, I don’t care how smooth they are, there’s a certain amount of nervous energy that surrounds them. It’s as common as liquor stores in the hood.”

Des nodded.

Black Bob raised his head. His eyes looked cold and hard. He spoke with the soft, deliberate timbre of a man that had seen more than his fair share of violence. “I don’t give a fuck where they from. But the nigga that killed my lil brother, Tony—wherever I find ’im, that’s where he’s going to die. I put that on my mother’s grave,” he promised.

“I don’t like all this mystery shit.” Mo rose from the chair and started pacing. He preferred using his hands more than his head. A vein the size of a slug pulsated from the side of his neck. “I’m so frustrated I can’t even think straight.” He shook his head. “And the fact that shit went down in front of our very eyes and there wasn’t anything we could have done is really fucking with me.”

Des didn’t have Mo on the team for his intellect anyway. The man was a certified stone-cold killer. He wasn’t complicated—in
fact, pure and simple, he was a man-eating tiger, loyal to the hand that fed him.

“Then I’ll do the thinking for the both of us,” Des said to his friend. He made eye contact with Stanka, Black Bob, Chip, Slim and Mo before continuing. “I believe the same person, or people, that took the shot at me on Friday was behind the sting on the church. It’s a strong gut feeling.”

“But what does that tell us?” Slim asked. “We don’t know who did that either.”

“If they were willing to kill me, then it couldn’t have been all about the money,” Des said.

Stanka asked, “Why don’t you think it was about the paper? These clowns got away with at least ten mil and that ain’t even counting the congregation’s money. What other reason would they need?”

“That’s the point. If that shot they took hadn’t hit the Bible, I’d be dead. And if they’d killed me on Friday, it would’na been nobody at the church to rob on Sunday. This shit is more about me than money or anything else.” Des paused for a second. “Somebody either wants me dead or broke. It’s just that simple.”

Des had their undivided attention.

He was sure this was personal. He’d run the probabilities and possibilities over and over, and at the end he had to go with his gut.

“Now all I have to do is figure out who hates me enough that they would want to see me dead and risk the chance of losing out on a ten-million-dollar come-up?”

“That’s like trying to find a needle in a haystack,” Mo said.

“Exactly. The good thing about finding a needle in a haystack
is that a strong enough magnet will pull the metal needle away from the straw that shelters it. The magnet attracts the metal. In this case I’m the magnet and the people we’re looking for are the needle.”

The guys thought about what Des said and they all started to smile as they understood what he was saying, some nodding.

But Slim wasn’t sure if he liked the idea. “You mean instead of layin’ low, you want to put yourself in the light, even more, to draw them out? You want to be bait?”

“Unless you have a better idea.”

The Exchange

The morning dragged for Yarni after the unexpected visit from Rahllo. All she could do was sit at her desk and wonder how in the hell did two supposedly intelligent, beautiful young women go out for a night on the town dressed to kill and end up stealing a dope dealer’s Cadillac Escalade filled with hot fur coats and enough heroin to put them both away for the rest of their natural lives.

Yarni shook her head. Each passing second Desember was proving to have more in common with Des than her chocolate, smooth skin, thick hair and engaging dark eyes.

Yarni thought the day couldn’t perplex her any further until she got a call from her mother.

“I hate to call with only bad news,” her mother said in an unsettling voice.

Yarni immediately thought the worst: the cancer was worse than the doctors first thought.
Why did shit like this happen to good people?
The only thing her mother had ever done in her life was try to help others. Yarni wasn’t going to dwell upon why God had chosen this to be her mother’s fate, but instead would be strong for Gloria.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Ma. I’m always here for you, whenever and wherever you need me, good or bad. Now, what’s up? What’s going on? How are you feeling?” she asked, holding her breath.

“I think my husband is cheating on me,” Gloria said bluntly. “Well, I know he is.”

Yarni let out a sigh, relieved. Though, having cancer and also a husband having an affair is enough to kill a woman. Yarni couldn’t ignore the pain in her mother’s voice. “Why do you think that, Ma?”

Sam wasn’t Yarni’s father, but she knew how much Gloria loved the man. And up until that moment she thought Sam was a stand-up dude who had always been good to her mother. She’d never thought he’d do such a thing as cheat on Gloria. She’d always imagined that they’d live happily ever after. They always seemed so happy together. Maybe Gloria was mistaken? It had to be some kind of misunderstanding.

“Our CPA pointed out some unusual purchases on our credit card statement. I never go over that stuff,” Gloria said. “And obviously Sam has been banking on me being a creature of habit.”

“Maybe you’re overreacting, Ma. Exactly what were the receipts for?” she asked.

“I’ll fax them over so you can see them with your own eyes.”
Gloria wasn’t trying to hear it. “Yarni, I raised you! And I’ve been dealing with men since before you were born. Ask your father. Believe me, there isn’t anything slow about yo’ momma. I know what I know.” Then she said, “That fool been renting a hotel room, twice a week, every week for the past six months. And even though we own a few restaurants, he’s been gallivanting all around town wining and dining some woman.” Gloria blew into the phone, displaying her frustration. “Don’t get me started.”

“How do you know all this, Ma?”

“Because I do. Now stop asking me silly questions.”

Yarni’s heart went out to her mother. A philandering husband was more than enough for the strongest woman in her right state of mind to deal with, but a woman with cancer?

Before she could respond, Layla buzzed her.

It was 2:30 on the dot, and Lava and Desember had arrived.

Yarni promised her mother she would call her right back.

The girls walked into her office. She looked the partners in crime up and down and then shook her head at the twosome. Desember wasn’t wearing the outfit from last night.

Yarni was glad that Desember had at least taken a shower and guessed that she must have changed at Lava’s house. “Have a seat,” she ordered. “I’m about two minutes from hurting both of you.”

“It’s not what you think, Auntie,” Lava said, trying to defuse the situation.

“Okay, let’s see,” retorted Yarni. “Did you,” she pointed to Lava and Desember, “or did you not, jack a young fella’s truck from a gas station?”

Desember cleared her throat. “Well, he shouldna stole the coat.”

“I take that as a yes.” Yarni looked out the window to the street. “Is the truck outside?”

Desember began to feel herself. “We might be young, but we ain’t stupid.”

“That’s yet to be determined,” Yarni countered. “Where is the vehicle?”

“We got it. He’s just the kind of dude that can’t really be trusted. He’s a slickster and a lightweight prankster and sheister, so we wanted to make sure he has what he’s supposed to deliver to us,” Lava explained.

“It’s called leverage,” Desember chimed in.

Before Yarni could respond, Layla interrupted. “Mr. Bledsoe is here with his son.”

Right on time. “Put them in the conference room, Layla. Tell them I’ll be with them in a second, please.” To the girls, she asked, “But the automobile is nearby?”

Desember nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

Yarni picked up her legal pad and hit them both upside the head as she walked out of her office with the girls in tow to make the exchange.

Once they entered the conference room, Yarni saw a grin spread across Rocko’s face as he saw Desember. Yarni rolled her eyes at him, reached to take his hat off his head, “Have some respect. You are inside,” and placed his Yankees cap on the table.

Rahllo said, “Let’s get down to business.”

Rocko stood up and removed the chinchilla from a brown
garment bag. “As good as new,” he said with a smile, showing his white gold grill filled with diamonds.

Yarni could not believe her eyes. When she saw her chinchilla she almost went into convulsions. For a split second she was speechless.

“I’m sorry that I borrowed it,” a contrite Desember said. “But this is why I missed my curfew; I refused to come back without it.”

“She meant she wasn’t going to come home without it,” Lava seconded what Desember had stated.

“I swear, no disrespect was intended.” Desember looked into Yarni’s eyes, and when she saw the anger, she shifted her gaze to Rocko. She made him nervous. Good.

Yarni knew that Desember was wrong for taking her coat but that the girl meant well; still, this wasn’t the time or place for her to discuss her thoughts about the situation with her.

Yarni said to Desember, “So now we have that all squared away and the coat is back in our possession, give these men the keys to their truck and disclose its location.”

“There’s just a little problem …”

“What?” Rahllo asked, beating his son to the punch.

“Well,” Desember said, “you see, before I moved here I drove an Altima, so I wasn’t really accustomed to driving no big SUV.” Rahllo’s and Rocko’s eyes were glued on her.

“Man, don’t tell me you hit something,” Rocko speculated.

“I won’t, then,” she said seriously.

“You won’t what?” Rahllo asked, trying to get some understanding of what Desember was trying to say.

“I won’t tell you that I hit a light pole bending a corner and
that since the truck was stolen, I left the sucker on the block of First and Federal Street.”

“What?” This time it was Rahllo who was shocked.

“What in the hell was y’all doing over in the heart of Jackson Ward anyway?” Rahllo asked the girls. “That’s no place for young ladies.”

“Shorty, you gotta be crazy outta yo’ rabbit-ass mind!” Rocko stood up.

Yarni said, “Desember, you left the car?” Yarni worried, trying to figure how she was going to defuse the situation.