The Fix 2 (14 page)

“See, and that's all the more reason I need you to speed things up with Li'l Monk, Charlie. When the shit hits the fan, and it will hit the fan, I want us there to get the big pieces and not the scraps.” Chucky told him.

Long ago Chucky had sold Charlie on the idea of the two of them taking over Pharaoh's territory and becoming the next bosses of Harlem. At the time it was a loosely slapped together idea to get Charlie to do what he wanted, but in light of recent developments it might've been something that could've actually worked. If Chucky successfully got Pharaoh and Ramses out of the way, there would be nobody to stop him from coming back to New York permanently and recapturing his former glory.

Chucky had respect in the streets before he went rogue, and there was a chance that if he got the power players out of the way he could rally enough support to establish his own organization. If he played his cards right he might even be able to do it with the blessings of the Clarks. But before he made a move on Ramses he needed to get Li'l Monk out of the way. Omega would be given the option to get down or lie down, and Chucky was fifty/fifty as to which way Omega would go if the price was right, but the fiercely loyal Li'l Monk would present a problem.

“I don't see why we gotta do it all sneak, Chucky. Li'l Monk and me been tight since the cradle and I'm sure if I just talked to him—”

“If you just talk to him he'll run back and tell it, ruining our plans,” Chucky cut him off. “Look, kid, I know Li'l Monk is your friend, but that boy is like a pit bull, loyal to whoever is holding his leash at the time and right now that ain't us. Ramses has got him all fucked up in the head, so even though you're trying to look out for him, he isn't gonna see it that way. We can't wake him up to what's going on until we've made our move then you can explain everything to him and see if he'll get on board. You have my word that no harm will come to him unless it's absolutely necessary.”

In all truthfulness, Chucky had no intentions on allowing Li'l Monk or anyone else to eat from his plate, especially Li'l Monk. Not only had he helped usurp Chucky and cost him his position, but his father had also been responsible for the death of his eldest brother, Sonny. He was firmly etched onto his shit list right along with Persia and they would both pay for the sins of their fathers.

“If you say so, Chucky,” Charlie said with uncertainty in his voice.

“Trust me, kid. It's better this way. Now what about that other thing I had you look into for me?”

“Oh yeah.” Charlie reached in his pocket and produced a piece of paper, which he slid across the table to Chucky. “I got the address off of a letter that she sent my moms.”

Chucky studied the piece of paper and couldn't help but to laugh when he saw that it was an address in Scranton, PA. The person he was looking for had been hiding damn near next door to him the whole time he was in Philadelphia. If he jumped on the road immediately, he could get to Scranton, handle his business, and get back all in a few hours.

“Good work, Charlie. You have no idea how helpful you've been,” Chucky told him.

“No doubt. I just want my sister to do the right thing. I know how I would feel if a bitch was having a baby by me then ran off so I could never see my kid,” Charlie said emotionally.

Chucky had to stop himself from laughing in Charlie's face over how stupid he was. The story he'd fed him was that he was looking for Charlie's sister Karen because she was pregnant by him and ran away so that Chucky couldn't force her to have an abortion. He was totally clueless as to the real reason Chucky was looking for her and what he planned to do to Karen when he finally caught up with her.

“Don't worry about it. By the time it's all said and done I'm gonna settle up with everybody I owe something to.” Chucky smiled knowingly.

When Persia walked in her house the first thing she noticed was the smell of chicken frying. This made her smile, because she loved her mother's fried chicken more than anything. If she was frying chicken that meant she was in a good mood.

Persia dropped her knapsack by the front door, and headed into the kitchen. Her mother, Michelle, was standing over the stove dropping a fresh batch of chicken into the grease. Michelle looked like a light-skinned version of Persia, except she had more hips and ass. The hair around her temples had started to sprout the first strands of gray, partially due to age and partially due to the stress Persia had put her through. Michelle had been Persia's best friend and the one person she could depend on no matter what. When Face went away, before Michelle met her future husband, she had played both mother and father to Persia. She went out of her way to provide Persia with the best of everything a little girl could want, and Persia paid her back by taking Michelle to hell and back with her bullshit. There was not a day that went by that Persia didn't regret the grief she had heaped upon her mother and since she'd gotten clean she had been working super hard to regain her trust and repair their relationship.

Michelle had her headphones on so she didn't notice Persia walk in. This gave Persia the idea to play a little joke on her mother. She crept up behind Michelle, and kissed her on the cheek. Startled, Michelle jumped, dropping the chicken into the hot grease, splashing some of it on her bare foot.

“Son of a bitch, damn it to hell, shit!” Michelle launched a barrage of curses, while wiping the grease off her foot with a dish towel.

Persia covered her mouth in embarrassment. “Oh my God, I'm so sorry, Mom.”

“Persia, you know better than to be sneaking up on me like that. Hand me some butter out of the fridge so I can put it on this burn. I don't want my feet all scarred up to where I can't wear sandals when the weather breaks.”

Persia went to stainless steel refrigerator and got a stick of butter out of the tray. “You want me to do it for you?” she asked, holding up butter.

“No, you've done enough.” Michelle snatched the butter and began applying it to her foot. “How was school?”

Persia thought about the hectic day she'd had. “Boring as usual,” she lied.

“I was never a big fan of school either, but unfortunately an education is one of the most important tools to have in life. The good thing is that you only have to deal with a little while longer until you get your diploma in January.”

“Yeah, but then it's off to college,” Persia said.

“Yes, but that's in the fall and fall is still quite a ways away. You trying to skip out on me early?” Michelle joked.

“Of course not, Mom. In fact I'll even enroll in a city college so that way I don't even have to leave the nest,” Persia said playfully.

“Oh no, you won't. You're going to go away to college so you can get the full experience. That's the one thing I regretted, going to school in New York instead of going away. I think it'll do you some good to go out and see different places. The world is bigger than New York, Persia.”

“I know. I just hope I'll be ready for it when the time comes,” Persia said, sounding less than confident.

Michelle stopped her home remedy, and gave her daughter her undivided attention. “Let me tell you something, baby girl. God will never heap more on you than He feels you can handle. Before you even turned eighteen you had been through more in those short years than people twice that age, and are still here to tell your story. The fact that you were able to get yourself back on track and stay focused shows how strong you are, Persia. You don't think you're ready for the world, but in all actually the world may not be ready for you.”

Persia smiled. “I can always depend on you to pick me up when I'm feeling down.” She hugged Michelle.

Michelle rubbed her daughter's back soothingly. “That's what mommies are for. Your parents are both fighters and you will be too.” She stroked Persia's face. When Michelle felt the raised bruise on her cheek, she abruptly stopped. “What happened to your face?”

Persia pulled away. “Nothing, I accidentally got clocked with a volleyball,” she lied.

Michelle gave her a disbelieving look. “Are you sure? If one of them white girls in that school put their hands on you, I'll throw my sneakers on and come get in somebody's ass.” She threw a few phantom punches.

Persia rolled her eyes at her mother's display. “No, Mom, you don't have to kick anybody's ass. It was an accident. Where's Richard?” She changed the subject.

“Out in the back yard. He told me to have you come see him when you came in,” Michelle told her.

“For what?” Persia asked.

“How should I know? Why don't you go out there and find out for yourself.”

“Okay,” Persia said with a sigh. She dragged her feet across the kitchen floor toward the glass door that lead to the back yard, dreading the impending chat with Richard. Ever since she had got out of rehab he always seemed to want to have these deep, philosophical conversations with her. Sometimes they were uplifting and others they were just annoying. Persia knew that Richard was concerned about her, but he had never been in the streets like that so he couldn't totally identify with her.

She found Richard at the far end of the back yard, near the high fence that separated their property from the neighbor's. Strapped to his face was a pair of protective goggles and in his hand he had a motorized saw. He was shirtless, wearing only a pair of khaki pants. Persia watched in amusement as Richard began to hack the branches off the neighbor's peach tree that were hanging over onto their side of the fence. The peaches would fall of the tree into their yard and when they rotted they attracted rodents. Richard had warned them more than once that if they didn't do something about the tree, he would and he was making good on his threat.

From the pile of braches and the film of sweat that was covering his chocolate arms. Richard was a gym rat so he was in very good physical shape. Richard was so conservative Persia couldn't ever remember seeing him without a shirt. On the back of his left shoulder she noticed for the first time that Richard had a tattoo. It appeared to be a pyramid with an eye hovering over it, like on the dollar bill. This surprised Persia because he didn't seem like the type to have tattoos. It was just then that it occurred to her that she had spent so many years giving Richard a hard time that she never really had a chance to learn much about him.

Richard must've felt Persia watching him, because he suddenly turned around. “Oh, hey Persia. How long have you been standing there?” he asked, shutting off the motorized saw.

“Just a few minutes,” she said trying to hide her embarrassment. She hoped he didn't catch her staring at him and get the wrong idea. “Mom said you wanted to see me.”

“Yes, I did. First, how was school?” Richard asked.

Persia shrugged. “It was okay, I guess.”

“I spoke with Father Michael today,” Richard told her.

Persia was hoping that he hadn't called and told Richard or her mother about her trip to his office. “What did he say?”

“He said you were doing great in school, and that your grades were turning around. I'm proud of you,” Richard told her.

“Thanks,” Persia said.

“Now, would you care to talk about the fight you had near the burger joint today?” Richard asked.

The question came as a total shock. It had only happened just happened, and he already knew. Richard always had a way of finding things out. It was like he had his own personal network of spies. “Who blew the whistle on me?”

“I have my sources.”

“Are you going to tell my mom?”

Richard folded his arms across his chest and studied her for a few seconds as if he was weighing it. “Not if you can give me a good reason why you were involved in a street brawl.”

Persia tried to think of a good lie, but reasoned that since she was already busted she might as well tell the truth. She went on the give Richard the short version of the events that lead up to the fight. When she was done telling her tale, he simply shook his head in disappointment.

“Persia, you've got too many good things going for you to risk blowing them over some bullshit street code that doesn't apply to you anyway because you're a civilian,” Richard told her.

“You wouldn't understand, Richard.”

“Why wouldn't I? Is it because I'm not a ‘street nigga'?” Richard made air quotations with his fingers. “Let me let you in on a secret, little girl. You don't have to be a street nigga to have common sense, and common sense is what you need to exercise before you end up undoing all the work you put in. You've come too far to start back sliding.”

“I hear you, Richard,” Persia said in an irritated tone.

“Don't just hear me, Persia, listen to me.”

“I will. So, are you going to tell my mother or what?” Persia asked, clearly ready to take her leave of Richard.

“No, not this time, but any more talk of you in the streets fighting and I'm going to have to let the cat out of the bag.”

“Thank you.” Persia turned on her heels and walked back to the house.

Richard stood there shaking his head. “This must just be my week for young people to test my patience,” he mumbled and went back to hacking down branches.

 

 

Persia welcomed the peace and quiet of her bedroom. She'd been having a rough day and all she wanted to do was get in her bed and watch television or curl up with a good book. She had picked up a novel called
Eve
that she'd been hearing good things about, and figured that night was as good as any to crack it open.

Persia took off her school uniform and slipped on a pair of sweat pants and a T-shirt, with a pair of fluffy socks. She flopped on her bed, and played the messages on her answering machine. There were fourteen messages and ten of them were from Chucky. You would think that by then he would've gotten the hint that she didn't want to be bothered, but he just kept harassing her. She thought about changing her phone number again, but if she did she'd have to explain to her mother why she wanted it changed. The last thing she wanted to do was make Michelle worry more than she already did. Still, if Chucky didn't back off, she would have to do something about it.

Times like those, Persia missed Li'l Monk. Whenever she had a problem she could always count on him to beat it to death. Ever since they were kids, Li'l Monk had always been her knight in dusty armor. Li'l Monk's days of being dusty and her savior were long gone. Li'l Monk was in the streets handling his business, and Persia was an afterthought. She couldn't say that she blamed him after the way she treated him. Persia knew that Li'l Monk was sweet on her, but she was on a hunt for a baller. Li'l Monk had called to check on her a few times during her rehabilitation, but he never visited. The last time Persia had actually laid eyes on him was the night of Marty's rape.

Persia had been in the club with Chucky, Marty, and Sarah, whacked out of her skull on pills, weed, and liquor. It was her first time ever in a real club and it showed by the way she was acting. She really got out of control when she ended up in the VIP with the rap group Bad Blood. Liquor and drugs seemed to come in endless supply, and Persia indulged in a little bit of everything they had. Somehow she ended up dancing on a table with Marty, while strange men groped her and tossed money.

As it happened, Li'l Monk was in the club that night too. When he saw the condition Persia was in, he tried to come to her aid, but she had played him in front of the rappers. When Persia wouldn't come with him willingly, Li'l Monk tried to force her and that's when he got into it with the rappers. Things got real ugly real quick and the party ended up getting shut down.

That night, Persia left with Chucky while Marty and Sarah left with the rappers and everything fell apart. Persia had replayed that night over in her head dozens of times and wondered if what would've happened if she played it differently. If she had allowed Li'l Monk to get her and her friends out of harm's way that night, Marty might still be alive and she might not have become a crackhead.

Persia sat on the edge of her bed, running her fingers through her hair. Dwelling on the past was driving her nuts, and she was spending so much time in her bedroom that it was starting to feel like the walls were closing in on her. It was Friday night and she was sitting in her bedroom staring at the walls. Maybe her mother was right and she needed to get out and do some things, anything, just as long as she was doing something that kept her mind off the past. Normally she would've called Sarah and Marty, but Marty was dead and Sarah was probably grounded until she was old enough to collect social security. She wanted to hang out, but didn't have anybody to call. Then she remembered!

Persia grabbed her purse and fished around until she found the piece of paper she was looking for. She grabbed her phone and punched in the number and waited while it rang. She didn't know if what she was doing was a good idea, but if it wasn't, it wouldn't be the first or the last bad idea Persia had acted on. Just as she was about to hang up, someone answered the phone.

“Hi, is Asia at home?”