The Fix 2 (17 page)

“Nah, this is Purple Haze. You trying to get blazed?” Omega extended the expertly rolled blunt to Monk.

“Nah, you know that ain't my drug of choice. If it don't go snap, crackle, pop when you light it, I ain't fucking with it,” Monk told him. “While I got your attention, let me ask you something, li'l nigga.”

“What's up?”

Monk spared a glance over his shoulder to make sure Li'l Monk wasn't within earshot, before speaking. “Word on the streets is that your boss has run afoul of some real nasty folks.”

“Really? That's news to me.” Omega faked ignorance.

“Somehow I doubt that. If it had been Junior back there playing dumb, I might believe it, but not you, O. You keep your ear pressed so far to the ground I'll bet you can hear the devil when he passes gas.”

Omega laughed. “You got jokes.”

“I'm glad that I amuse you, but let me tell you what ain't so funny.” Monk leaned in so that he and Omega were eye to eye. “Your boss has finally come across somebody who ain't gonna lie down and be bullied. Poppa Clark might've been willing to play diplomatically with Pharaoh, but his kid won't. Shai Clark is too young and too wet behind the ears to even know what diplomacy is, so at the first signs of trouble his first reaction is going to be to wipe you muthafuckas out, and he's got the guns and the muscle to do it.”

Omega didn't take kindly to Monk kicking dirt on his team. “I hear you talking, old timer, but even if there was a beef brewing, which there isn't, I think Pharaoh is more than capable of holding his own.”

Monk gave a throaty laugh. “Simple minded-ass nigga, this ain't the nineties no more and your boss ain't as strong as you think. Ghost stories about the great and powerful Pharaoh ain't enough to keep these wolves at bay anymore. Why do you think Pharaoh keeps himself hidden away and uses dumb little niggas like you and my son for his dirty work? All of you are expendable and just don't know it. But fuck all that, let me get to the point I'm trying to make. There's a shit storm coming and no doubt you and Li'l Monk are gonna end up caught in the middle of it. I need to know that while he's out there, my son has solid niggas watching his back. Are you a solid nigga?”

“Of course. My gun go off,” Omega said proudly.

“Yeah, your gun go off, but can you hit anything?” Monk fired back.

“I got my homie's back, you have my word on that,” Omega pledged.

“You dam well better. I know how snake-ass niggas like Pharaoh and Ramses do. When things get too hectic for them to handle they send a bunch of you young cats out to give your lives for their weak-ass cause, so you best be expecting it and move accordingly. Because if something happens to my son out there because one of you knuckleheads wasn't on point, it's gonna go bad for all of you.”

Omega respected Monk on the strength that he was an O.G. as well as his best friend's father, but he didn't know how he felt about how Monk was coming at him. “Is that supposed to be some kind of threat?”

“Not at all, O.” Monk pulled a gun from the pocket of his hoodie and pointed it at Omega's face. “This is a threat. If by some strange twist of fate my son ends up being one of the sacrificial lambs in this foolishness, I'm gonna pay a call on all you bitches' mamas and girlfriends before I pick you off one by one, even Mr. High and Mighty Pharaoh. Your new purpose in life is to keep my son alive, ya dig?”

“You got it, Monk. You got it,” Omega said nervously.

“Good.” Monk slipped the gun back in his pocket.

“What the fuck are y'all sitting so close together for?” Li'l Monk asked, coming out of the bedroom. Like his father, he was wearing a black hooide and black jeans.

“Nothing, Junior. Just having a little chitchat with ya man.” Monk got up off the coffee table.

There was something about the look on Big Monk's face that he didn't like. He always knew when his father was up to no good. “You headed back out?”

“Nah, I'm in for a while. I got a freak bitch coming by who's down to fuck for a buck. Let me hold something so I can get my Friday night popping.”

Li'l Monk gave his father a disbelieving look. “What happened to the money I gave you earlier?”

“What the fuck do you think happened to it? I smoked it,” Monk said as if it should've been obvious.

Li'l Monk sucked his teeth and dug in his pocket for his bankroll. “This shit here is gonna have to stop.”

“I know you ain't acting funny over a few funky-ass dollars.” Monk sounded offended. “Boy, don't you know—”

“I know, I know, you've been taking care of me all my life,” Li'l Monk cut him off and shoved few bills in his hand. “Take this money and go about ya business, man.”

Monk took a second to count through the bills. “Appreciate you, son.” He disappeared into his bedroom.

“Whatever, nigga.” Li'l Monk waved him off. He was getting tired of his father's antics and knew it would only be a matter of time before he would have to get his own place. He turned his attention to Omega, who was sitting there looking like he had seen a ghost. “Fuck you sitting there looking crazy for? Light the weed.”

Omega handed him the blunt. “Do your thing. I don't feel much like getting high right now.”

After Li'l Monk took the blunt to the face, he and Omega hit the streets. He wanted to go and have his meeting with Ramses and get it over with so he could have the rest of his night free. He and Sophie hadn't parted on the best terms and he wanted to make it up to her. He remembered her saying something about a movie she wanted to see and planned to take her. It was a chick movie, and not really Li'l Monk's style, but he'd sit through it for her.

Li'l Monk and Omega were walking down the street talking among themselves when Li'l Monk spotted a car with tinted windows slow coasting beside them. He peeked at the plates and saw that they were from Virginia. As the passenger window rolled down, Li'l Monk's hand dipped near his waist, where he had his gun stashed. He was about to draw until he saw that there were two pretty Spanish chicks in the front seat. The driver was a brunette wearing fire engine red lipstick and the passenger was a green-eyed blonde. From the skimpy tops they had on they appeared to be looking for a good time.

“What's good, fellas? Where can we get some weed?” the blonde asked.

“We don't sell drugs, ma,” Li'l Monk told her and kept walking.

“Stop acting like that, baby. We ain't cops, we're just trying to get high,” the blonde explained, but her explanation fell on deaf ears with Li'l Monk. Seeing she wasn't getting anywhere with him she set her sights on Omega. “What about you, handsome? You scared of girls too?”

“More like they're scared of me,” Omega boasted. The minute he had seen that there were females in the car he slowed his stroll and started plotting.

“Really, now why is that?” the brunette asked from behind the wheel.

“If you have to ask then you don't need to know,” Omega shot back.

“Spoken like an important man,” the blonde flirted.

“Baby girl, you didn't know? I run these streets,” Omega bragged.

“O, let's bust a move so we can handle business,” Li'l Monk called. He was getting irritated. They had shit to do and Omega was chasing pussy, as usual. They had things to do and Omega was slowing them down.

Omega gave him a look that said to be cool and went back to talking to the women. “Like I was saying, baby, this is my hood.”

“Yeah, right,” the blonde dismissed him. “The way we hear it, a guy named King Tut is in charge over here.”

Omega frowned. “Baby, you've been misinformed. King Tut works for me. He don't move unless I say so.” He threw his friend under the bus.

The smile that had been plastered across the blonde's face suddenly melted away. “That's good to know.” She made a hand gesture. The back window of the car rolled down and out sprang a young Spanish girl holding a shotgun.

“Down!” Li'l Monk screamed, before tackling Omega. They both hit the floor a split second before a blast from the shotgun knocked out the side windows of the car they had been standing on the other side of.

Li'l Monk sat with his back pressed against the parked car, while the shotgun fired over and over. When the shotgun clicked empty, he heard the sounds of tires screeching. They were trying to escape, but it wouldn't happen on Li'l Monk's watch. He popped up from behind the parked car in time to see the shooters peeling down the block. The girl with the shotgun was still hanging out the window, reloading her weapon. Li'l Monk jumped out into the middle of the street and opened fired on the fleeing car with his cannon. The Desert Eagle slugs punched silver dollar-sized holes in the body of the car and shattered the back window. The brunette lost control of the car and went speeding across the Avenue, crashing through the gate and front window of the Dollar Store.

“Got you bitches now.” Li'l Monk jogged across the street to finish what he had started. When he arrived at the crash scene, he found the girl who had shot at them staggering to her feet, still holding the shotgun. Without breaking his stride, he put a bullet in her brain as he passed her on the way to the car. Li'l Monk didn't even turn around to see the body drop. About that time, Omega had joined him and Li'l Monk noticed that he was walking with a limp. “You hit?”

“Nah, I banged my damn knee on the sidewalk when your heavy-ass tackled me,” Omega told him.

“Better a busted knee than a busted skull,” Li'l Monk said.

“Very funny,” Omega said moving to stand beside Li'l Monk. When he looked down at the corpse of the girl holding the shotgun his mouth suddenly became very dry. He had seen her before on one of his trips to try to negotiate with Petey for his territory. She worked the register at the restaurant he hung out in.

“You staring at that bitch like you know her,” Li'l Monk said.

“Nah, I don't know her. Let's see what we got.” Omega headed toward the driver's side of the wrecked car.

Li'l Monk spared one last glance at the corpse and moved around to the passenger side. Inside the car was a mess. The driver's airbag failed to deploy so the brunette caught the full impact of the dashboard in the crash. The bridge of her nose and part of her forehead were completely crushed. She never stood a chance. The blonde was still alive, but for how long was anyone's guess. One of the display racks that decorated the Dollar Store window had pierced her chest like a spear. At the rate she was bleeding, she wouldn't be long for this world.

“Who sent you?” Li'l Monk asked, trying to interrogate the girl for as much information as he could before she expired. She was trying to say something, a name, but her voice was faint. Li'l Monk was about to lean in closer to try to hear clearer what she was saying, when the blonde's head suddenly exploded. Li'l Monk jumped back, and saw Omega standing on the other side of the car holding a smoking gun. “What the fuck did you do that for? She was trying to tell me who sent them.”

“Man, you can't put no stock in the ramblings of muthafuckas who know they're about to die. They'll say anything just to live.” Omega dumped another shot in her for good measure. “Don't matter who sent these bitches. They'll get the message that we ain't to be fucked with when they see their hitters on the morning news. Let's get out of here before the cops come. Your block is hot now, so we can go back to my pad and get cleaned up before we go see Ramses. We don't want to keep him waiting any longer than he already has been.”

When Persia made the call to Asia, she felt awkward about it, almost desperate. She felt silly for being so hard up for a friend that she called a girl she hardly knew. As it turned out it was the best decision she had made in a while.

Asia invited Persia to a charity event that her mother was hosting in Manhattan. Persia was hesitant about going, but when she discovered that the event was in support of suicide prevention she changed her mind. After what happened to Marty the cause hit close to home for her.

Michelle was initially suspicious about Persia going out with Asia. The last time she let her daughter go out with her friends unattended the dynamics of their life had changed. It took quite a bit of begging on Persia's part, and some guarantees from Nya before Michelle finally agreed to let Persia attend the event. Nya also extended invitations to Michelle and Richard to attend the event, but they declined. This would be Persia's first social outing in a very long time and they didn't want to hover over her like they didn't trust her.

Persia had fever trying to find something to wear. Since her stint in recovery she had put on a bit of weight and couldn't really fit into any more of her good dresses. Thankfully Michelle was able to find something she had that Persia was able to fit in. It was a nice strapless black dress that hugged Persia's curves perfectly.

Richard and Michelle came outside with Persia while she waited for her ride. They were all surprised to see two long black Lincoln Town Cars pull up in front of her house. Nya got out of one and Asia the other. Both of them looked stunning in matching silver dresses and had their faces flawlessly made up. All dressed up, Asia looked far older than seventeen and a time or two Persia caught Richard looking at her. Nya made small talk with Richard and Michelle who stood off to the side, whispering and giggling. After a while, Nya announced that they had to be going and they headed toward their respective Town Cars. Nya rode in the lead car with two assistants while Asia and Persia got into the car that would follow.

Persia did a double take when she saw the hulking man behind the wheel of the car they'd be riding in. He was so big that the steering wheel was almost pressed against his chest while they were driving. Asia had introduced him as her cousin, Basil, but from the way he doted over her he felt more like a bodyguard. After waving good-bye to her parents, Persia was off.

Asia was way cooler than Persia had expected her to be. At school she seemed quiet and sometimes stuck-up, but when it was just she and Persia, Asia loosened up. She was smart and hilariously funny. She had Persia in tears as she made jokes and talked about the different chicks in school. In a lot of ways she reminded Persia of Marty and wished the two could've met. She knew they would've gotten along famously.

“You know, I wanna thank you for inviting me out tonight, Asia. It's been awhile since I've been anywhere except school and the library,” Persia told her.

“It's okay, Persia. It's like I was telling you, I think you're a cool chick. Besides, we got off on the wrong foot and I kind of wanted to make it right between us. As a matter of fact, I have a peace offering.” Asia reached into her purse and pulled out a rolled-up joint. “Do you burn?”

“No, not anymore,” Persia said, looking away from the joint.

“It's cool. Will it bother you if I smoke?”

“No, not at all,” Persia lied. In all truthfulness, she didn't know how she would react to being around the weed smoke. Since she was in recovery she hadn't touched a drug, or even a drop of alcohol. Her mother and Richard had even gotten rid of the bar they had at home just so she wouldn't be tempted.

Asia lit the joint and inhaled deeply, closing her eyes and letting the smoke fill her lungs. From the smell of it, Persia knew it was some high-quality weed. She felt her mouth watering, wanting to hit the blunt so bad, but knew she couldn't. Weed was a relatively harmless drug to most, but there was no such thing as a harmless drug to someone in recovery.

Halfway into the joint, Asia grabbed two glasses and some small bottles of Scotch from the mini bar. She offered one to Persia, but she declined. “Damn, you don't drink or smoke? What kind of teenager are you?”

“One who has been through a lot,” Persia said.

“I totally understand. It's a lot like how I feel about sex,” Asia said.

“How do you mean?” Persia asked.

“Well, in my old school in Germany I had sort of a reputation as being a lose
mädchen,
” she said in perfect German.

“A what?” Persia didn't understand the word.

“A loose girl,” Asia translated. “In America you'd call it being a ho.” She laughed. “For me, it was like sex was my drug of choice. Didn't too much matter where or who I got it from, as long as I got it. I didn't set out to be like that, but it was like having sex was the only thing I could do to feel good about myself. In those few moments when a man was professing his love for me I felt important, even when they were lying. After a pregnancy scare, it made me reevaluate how I was living and the things I was doing and realize that even though the sex was feeling good it wasn't necessarily good for me, so I stayed away from it.”

“So, you're celibate now?” Persia asked.

“Heavens no! As stressful as my life is, celibacy would probably drive me thoroughly insane. I still have sex when I feel like I need a release, but I don't feel like I need it anymore to make me whole. Let's just say I've decided to do my drug of choice in moderation.”

“Wow, I'd have never figured it. You don't strike me as the type,” Persia said.

“Just like you don't strike me as a recovering addict. Some of us hide our shame better than others,” Asia said, surprising Persia. “Don't look at me like that, Persia. You know how women talk. I know all about your fall from grace.”

“If you know all this why would you want to hang out with an ex-smoker?” Persia asked.

“Because I believe in judging people for who they are, not what they've done. If I moved solely based on gossip then I'd have disowned my mother years ago, because God knows that woman's name has been tied to more than a few scandals.”

“That's crazy because your mother seems so straight laced,” Persia said, thinking of how Nya had been the epitome of a lady from the moment she'd met her.

“Yes, she is now, but she had her time. During the time my father was killed my mother was really out there,” Asia said as if it pained her even to mention her father.

“I'm sorry,” Persia said.

“No need to be. You didn't kill him, that honor went to a one-eyed priest who my father had made an enemy of.”

“Asia, if it's not too personal of a question, why was your father killed?” Persia wanted to know.

“Not a personal question at all. Quite frankly, my father was killed for the same reason most young men die far too soon, he wanted to be a gangster. I don't judge my father or speak ill of him for the things he's done. Even in death his deed provides my mother and me with a lavish life, but honestly, I'd trade it all just to have him back,” Asia said emotionally.

“I feel you on that,” Persia said, thinking of her own father who was rotting away in prison.

“Enough of this sad talk, we're supposed to be having a good time. Tell me, have you ever been to a fundraiser?” Asia asked, changing the subject.

“No, this will be my first one.”

“Excellent.” Asia clapped excitedly. “This should be fun for you, but I'm afraid not so much for me. I'll be working.”

“Are you modeling tonight?” Persia asked.

“No, but I might as well be because I'm sure my mother will be parading me around while annoying men snap pictures and rude women ask me uncomfortable questions,” Asia said in an irritated tone.

“I don't know why you sound so bitter about it, Asia. What little girl wouldn't want to be a famous model?”

“I'm more notorious than famous, and that's because of who my mother is and who my father was. In the beginning, I used to love it, but after doing it since I was four years old it's becoming so bland. Always the same thing, ‘turn this way, walk that way, stand up straight.'” Asia made a dismissive gesture with her hands. “Sometimes I just want to be a regular teenager and not the focal point of every eye in the room.”

“We're here, cousin,” Basil said over his shoulder. Persia and Asia had been so deep in conversation that they hadn't even realized they were in Manhattan already.

Persia looked out the window at the all the people in front of the venue and the red carpet leading up to the door. Flash bulbs began popping before the Town Car had even come to a complete stop. There were athletes, entertainers all dressed to the nines, waving for the cameras or conducting interviews. All of the city's elite had come out for the event. Security lined either side of the red carpet, keeping journalists and onlookers at a safe distance from the stars. It was unreal.

“Are you ready?” Asia asked.

“As I'll ever be, I guess,” Persia said nervously.

“Loosen up, Persia. This is a night of fun and no stress, try to enjoy it. Think of tonight as your coming-out party,” Asia said, throwing on a pair of sunglasses. “Now let's go and greet our adoring public,” Asia said and flung the door open.

To say that Persia was overwhelmed by the experience would've been an understatement. They had barely made it out of the Town Car before the media swooped in on them. There were flashes from so many different cameras that Persia was temporarily blinded and Asia had to lead her by the hand. Persia now understood why she was wearing sunglasses at night.

Basil bullied his way through the throng of media personnel and fans, clearing a path for the women. Persia was scared shitless, but Asia took it all in stride, smiling and waving to people like she was the first lady of the United States. She made it all look so effortless. As soon as they got inside, members of security came and whisked them away. Nya had to take her place on the main stage, as the hostess, while Asia was taken to the green room to conduct a few interviews and take some publicity pictures. Asia offered Persia to join her, but Persia declined. She didn't want to crowd her, so she just agreed to hook up with Asia when she was done.

Persia stood off to the side, sipping from a crystal glass filled with water, trying her best not to look like a star-stuck teenager, while she eyeballed some of her favorite celebrities. Never in a million years would Persia had thought she'd be partying with the stars of some of her favorite movies and television shows. She had been there less than an hour and it was already one of the best nights of her life, but little did she know things were about to get far more interesting.

“You know, if I didn't know better I'd say you were following me,” a voice spoke up behind Persia. She turned, surprised to see Vaughn. He was immaculately dressed in a black tuxedo, with black shoes polished to a high shine.

“You're the last person I expected to see here,” Persia said, looking him over. Vaughn looked good enough to eat.

“Is that a compliment or an insult?” Vaughn asked. His tone suggested that he was offended.

Persia covered her mouth to hide her embarrassment. “Oh, I didn't mean it like that. I'm sorry.”

“I'm just teasing you, ma.” Vaughn smiled. “You must have some pretty important friends if you were invited to this joint.”

“I came with my homegirl.” Persia pointed at Asia, who was doing an interview in front of the backdrop of one of the event's sponsors.

“Oh, you're with Asia?” Vaughn asked in surprise.

“Yeah, do you know her?” Persia asked, hoping to God Vaughn wasn't one of Asia's conquests.

“Who doesn't know Asia Sudan? She's kind of a big deal, ya know, but not as big a deal as you,” Vaughn said with a wink.

“Here you go, running game again,” Persia said.

“If you call me keeping it real running game then so be it. I just call it like I see it and the view from here is breathtaking.” Vaughn openly ogled Persia, causing her to blush.

“Smile, guys.” A photographer popped seemingly out of thin air. Vaughn pulled Persia into a lover's embrace, and posed for the picture. “Thanks.” The photographer scurried off.

“What was that all about?” Persia asked, confused.

“I told you, you're a big deal. Hey listen, after this is over do you wanna go somewhere and get a real meal? The portions they serve at these things ain't fit for a kid and I'm sure you're gonna be hungry when it's over.”

“I don't know, Vaughn, you're moving kinda fast,” Persia said.

“Persia, it's just a meal. You're acting like I asked for your hand in marriage, that'll come later.” Vaughn smirked devilishly. “But seriously, Persia, my intentions are nothing but pure. I ain't trying to crowd you. I just wanna get to know you a little bit. Scout's honor.” He held three fingers up like the Boy Scouts salute.

“We'll see,” Persia told him with a smile.

Vaughn rubbed his chin. “Not the answer I was looking for, but I'll take it because it beats you telling me flat out no. I'm making progress.”

The white girl Persia had seen at the record store walked up. She cut her eyes at Persia as if she was wondering what she was doing there, before turning her attention back to Vaughn, but didn't bother to speak. She whispered something in Vaughn's ear, which made him frown. There was a brief exchange between them, before Vaughn finally relented to whatever she was asking.

“Persia, I hate to dip off but I gotta take care of something real quick,” Vaughn told her. The white girl stood a few paces behind him, with her arms folded like she had an attitude about something.