True to the Game II Page 2

  “Make your point, Lieutenant.” Captain Holiday turned to him. “You’re late, and some of us are very busy.”

  Lieutenant Ratzinger placed his stack of files on the table and walked to the blackboard, where he had photos of Philadelphia’s various drug crews pinned up. Each group of photos was arranged in the shape of a pyramid, with the leader of the organization at the top. One group of photos, however, had two individual photos at the top of the pyramid. Quadir’s photo sat just above that of Tyrik.

  “This is our new plan, Captain,” Lieutenant Ratzinger explained. “Working with United States District Attorney Paul Perachetti, we’re initiating a new operation, one that not only targets the drug dealers, but aggressively targets their assets as well. We take away these assholes’ money, we take away their ability to hire big-time drug lawyers, and to influence jurors and the outcome of their prosecution. We are going to hit them where it hurts, in their pockets.”

  “Not to mention, gentlemen, this department will receive 50 percent of the assets seized from these dealers,” United States District Attorney Perachetti added. “And that, gentlemen, can add up rather quickly.”

  “And that’s why the mayor is behind this thing, 100 percent,” the deputy police chief chimed in. “A lot of nice shiny new equipment can be bought with this money, without costing the taxpayers a cent.”

  “With that said, may I turn your attention to the board, please,” Lieutenant Ratzinger asked.

  The meeting’s participants focused their attention on him.

  “Thank you,” the lieutenant said. “On these charts are the organizational structures of some of Philly’s most notorious drug crews. These pictures are photos of the main operators, or lieutenants, in these organizations. Up top is the captain, or head of the crew.”

  “Excuse me, Lieutenant,” the deputy chief interrupted. “But why does that organization have two?”

  The lieutenant turned toward Quadir’s and Tyrik’s photos. “Oh, because the one on top, Quadir Richards, is deceased. This organization is now headed by the gentleman in the second photo.

  “Although Mr. Richards is no longer with us, his money still is,” the lieutenant explained. “And we have reason to believe that this young lady is in possession of it.”

  “How much are we talking about?” the captain asked.

  “Millions, we believe,” Lieutenant Ratzinger explained. “Mr. Richards was one of Philadelphia’s biggest and most profitable dealers, before his untimely demise.”

  “Who bumped him off?” the deputy chief asked, nonchalantly.

  “We believe it was the members of a rival drug crew, known on the streets as the Junior Mafia,” Perachetti explained. “I personally tried to prosecute the leader of the organization, Jerrell Jackson. Needless to say, I was unsuccessful. He walked away a free man. That’s why I am really looking forward to overseeing the operation that Captain Holiday and Lieutenant Ratzinger here are putting together to get these scumbags off the street.”

  The deputy chief leaned forward in his seat and whispered to Ratzinger. “I want that money for this department and I want those assholes behind bars.”

  Detective Ratzinger nodded.

  “See to it personally, lieutenant,” the deputy chief told him.

  Detective Ratzinger lifted a photo of Gena into the air for all to see. “This is a photo of Janel Scott, better known as Gena. She was the live-in concubine of Quadir Richards. And we are going after her, just like we’re going after all the rest of them. We have to send a message to these young girls, letting them know that harboring drug money, and laundering it, is just as bad as getting out on the streets and selling the drugs themselves.”

  The deputy chief nodded. “Good, make an example out of her.”

  Lieutenant Ratzinger allowed a twisted grin to slowly spread across his face. “Oh, we will, trust me. We are already in the process of targeting Ms. Scott.”

  Khyree unlocked the door to his apartment and stepped inside. He carried with him two bags of groceries that he had just bought from the local store to replenish his nearly empty pantry. He strolled into his kitchen and clicked on the light, only to be surprised by an unexpected guest seated at the breakfast table.

  “Jerrell!” Kyhree said nervously. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

  “That’s the greeting that I get?” Jerrell asked.

  Kyhree set his bags of groceries down on the kitchen floor. “What’s up, man? Good to see you!”

  Jerrell stared at him in silence.

  “Man, J, I’m so glad to see you outta that muthafuckin’ place.” Khyree told him. He walked to where Jerrell was seated and leaned over and embraced him. “That shit is for animals, man.”

  Jerrell sat silently, staring at Khyree coldly.

  “Yeah, man, when we heard that you had won that bullshit case, we celebrated like a muthafucka!” Khyree continued.

  “Where’s my money, Khyree?” Jerrell asked.

  “Money?”

  “Yeah, my money?” Jerrell told him. “I left you with some work when I got caught up, and now that I’m out, I’m here to collect my money.”

  “Oh, yeah, the money,” Khyree repeated. “Yeah, I ain’t forgot aboutcha, baby. You know it’s all good, J!”

  “Okay then, where is it?” Jerrell asked.

  “I got to get it for you,” Khyree told him. “I don’t keep no major bread like that in the house. I would have had it here, if I knew you was coming.”

  “Where is it?” Jerrell asked.

  “It’s at my other spot.”

  “Other spot?” Jerrell lifted an eyebrow. “What other spot you got, Khyree?”

  Khyree smiled and exhaled. “Yo, J, why you tripping? This ya boy Khyree! You know me better than that!”

  “The only thing that I know is that I warned you niggas what would happen if you fucked off my dough,” Jerrell told him. “What? You muthafuckas didn’t think that a nigga was ever coming home or something?”

  “Naw, J, it’s cool,” Khyree told him, lifting his palms into the air. “Just calm down. I got ya bread.”

  “Then give me my fucking money, so that I can be on my way,” Jerrell told him.

  “Look, I’ma take you to the spot right now, and get you your bread so that you can quit tripping,” Khyree told him. “I’m going to put this shit up, and then we can bounce. I just gotta stick this shit in the freezer so it won’t melt while we gone.”

  Khyree lifted some frozen pizzas out of his grocery bag, opened his freezer, and placed them inside. He began to frantically rearrange the contents of his freezer.

  “Looking for this?” Jerrell asked, holding up Khyree’s still-cold nine-millimeter. “Nigga, I taught your muthafuckin’ ass everything you know. You think that you can get me with some shit that I taught you?”

  Khyree shook his head and let out an uneasy smile. “Man, J, it ain’t even like that. I wasn’t looking for that!” Khyree lied.

  Jerrell set the gun down on the table and pulled another one from his pocket. “What about this one? What, are you going to sit down on the sofa next? Or go and use the bathroom? All of them are gone, Khyree. I got all of them.”

  Khyree began to bawl. “Man, J, you my boy, you know that! Why you tripping on me like this, man!”

  “You muthafuckas fucked off my paper, Khyree!” Jerrell said angrily. “And now, I don’t have a muthafuckin’ thing to my name! Nigga, I’m scratching just to get by.”

  “J, I can give you some money!” Khyree told him. “Let me give you some money to get by with, and you give me a couple of days to make some moves, and everything will be all gravy, baby! I’ll have the rest of what I owe you, and then some!”

  “You talking about the money in that shoebox, nigga?” Jerrell asked, nodding toward a blue Nike shoebox under the table near his feet.

  Khyree stared at the shoebox. “J, just take it. Take it all, man. I’ll get you the rest later. Just give me a couple of days.”

  “A couple
of days?” Jerrell asked.

  “That’s it,” Khyree told him. “All I need is a couple of days.”

  “I got a better idea,” Jerrell told him. “How about I take this money, and we call it even?”

  Khyree nodded. “Whatever you want to do, J. But I swear, I can get the rest of the money.”

  Jerrell rose from the breakfast table. “Na, let’s just call it even.”

  Jerrell lifted the black Glock and fired several times, striking a screaming Khyree several times in his chest.

  Jerrell gathered up the shoebox and headed out of the apartment, stepping over Khyree’s body on the way. “Now we even, muthafucka!”

  MONEY AIN’T A THANG

  Gena rolled over, clutching her pillow, as she opened her eyes to the sounds of Gah Git.

  “Boy, if you don’t come on here and put these pants on.”

  “No!” Khaleer took off running and sideswiped Gena as she was approaching the bathroom door.

  “Boy,” Gena said as Khaleer pushed by her and slammed the bathroom door behind him.

  “Open the door.” Gena tried the handle but it wouldn’t turn. “Gah Git, Khaleer done locked himself in the bathroom.”

  “Gena, get me a belt. I’m gonna whoop the simple off his little black ass if he don’t stop making me chase him.”

  “I’m gonna whoop the simple off his little black ass if he makes me stand out here and pee on myself. Gah Git, I got to pee.”

  “Me too,” said Bria, who was trying to sleep but had been awakened by Khaleer’s escapade and was peeking out of her room.

  “Get me a credit card so I can open this door without breaking it down.”

  “I know that’s right, Gah Git. Let me find out you be burglarizing the hood with secret credit card entries,” said Bria, smiling at her grandmother.

  “Go somewhere, gypsy child,” Gah Git responded as she began to bang on the bathroom door.

  Bang, bang, bang. “Come on, baby, open up the door for Gah Git. You know Gah Git loves you, baby, I ain’t gonna hurt you, now come on, Khaleer.”

  There was no answer from behind the bathroom door. Gah Git took the credit card Gena handed her and opened the door to find Khaleer huddled in the corner of the tub.

  “’Scuse me,” Gena said, pushing Gah Git to the left as she hopped onto the toilet seat.

  “When you gotta go, you gotta go,” said Khaleer, showing a bright smile.

  “Fool, you ’bout to go, go to ass whoopin’ land, that’s where I’m fittin’ to send you. Now come on here and get dressed for school,” said Gah Git, as she grabbed him by the arm and swung him out the tub.

  “Gah Git, don’t be mean,” said Gena, pulling on the toilet tissue roll.

  “Don’t be mean? Gena, I been trying to get this boy dressed all morning. I’m tired and my day ain’t even get started.”

  “Khaleer, why you won’t get dressed?” Gena asked.

  “Everybody teases me and calls me too short pants and they say the flood, it’s a flood, and I’m not wearing them anymore.”

  “Boy, you gonna wear them, they clean clothes and you gonna be glad you got them to wear. Ain’t nothing wrong with these pants, they ain’t even highwaters.”

  “Yes they is, Gah Git. I be wondering why you be putting them pants on him anyway,” said Bria, teasing her grandmother.

  “Didn’t I already tell you to go somewhere, gypsy child?” she asked Bria before turning her attention back to Khaleer. “Now let’s go, dammit! That’s what’s wrong with y’all now. Always worried about clothes and somebody else’s name. Shit, black folks don’t even know they own name but they know that Versace shit. Don’t you know it’s not what’s on the outside, it’s what’s on the inside, Khaleer? You understand?”

  “No, please, Gah Git, please don’t make me wear them clothes,” he begged before he started to cry as Gah Git dressed him in his highwaters anyway.

  Gena sat on the toilet seat feeling bad for Khaleer. She remembered her school days and all the taunting and teasing she had endured. Don’t worry, cousin, I got you covered. I’ll get you some new clothes today and won’t nobody be teasing you when I’m done. Yes, Gena had big plans for herself today. After finding a hidden treasure and safely hiding it, Gena had real big plans. She thought for a moment what she had done last night. The money is safe; I don’t have to worry about that. Gena had it all figured. Last night after she met Jerrell at the Exxon station she let him follow her back to the city, but instead of going back to Richard Allen, she made a detour and went to Thirtieth Street Station. It cost little to nothing and was a brilliant plan. Inside the train station she purchased several travel bags. She went back out to the car and divided up the money in the pillowcases, placed it in the various duffel bags, then placed the duffel bags in different lockers. By the time she was done, she had eight locker keys. The nice thing was, she could pick the money up any time, day or night, move it elsewhere if she needed or keep it right there. No one would ever know what was in the lockers and no one would ever know she had found Quadir’s money. I got to get dressed. I got a lot going on. I wonder what I should wear?

  Gena looked at her closet. She didn’t have much of a wardrobe to pick from. Actually, she didn’t have anything. It had been like that for months. Gena sort of had no zest in her life, she had no romance, she had nothing going on that was exciting or adventurous, and for the past six months, she had done little to nothing except mourn the loss of Quadir. She didn’t want any clothes because she had nowhere to go, but all that had changed. Everything had changed after she found that money. And what was even nicer was that guy she had met. She looked down at the piece of paper in her hand and wondered if should she call him. No, not yet. But thank God for him. If it hadn’t been for him, she might not have been able to elude the BMW that had been following her. Because of Jay, she had been able to stash her cash in her secret hiding place without being followed. She kept only two of the pillowcases filled with money and had them in the closet, buried under her clothes, which were piled in even larger trash bags. I hope Gah Git don’t be snoopin’ around in my room and find all this money. God, what would I do then? I can hear her now, boy oh boy, and I don’t want to hear her at all.

  Gena carefully mapped out her day as she slipped into her clothes. “I sure do miss you,” she said as she stared at a small picture of Quadir she kept on her nightstand. “Thank you so much for giving me the keys. I’m going shopping now, but I’ll be back later. I love you.” She kissed Quadir’s picture and placed it back down on her nightstand. She grabbed her diamond Q key chain and headed downstairs.

  “Gah Git, I’m gone, but I’ll be back.”

  “Okay, baby, you just be safe out there. All these people with guns and stuff, they going crazy, don’t make sense. You just watch yourself, Gena.”

  “Okay, bye.”

  Gena closed the door and looked down the street at her baby blue Mercedes. It was sparkling in the sunlight like a star from the twinkling sky.

  “Yo, Gena, what’s up?” the guy from the corner store called.

  “Hey, what’choo up to this early in the morning?”

  “Nothing, you know me, got to get a fresh start with this hustle shit I got going on.”

  “Well just be careful.”

  “I’m good, I’m on it. Tell Bria I’m trying to holler at her.”

  “Child, please, you better tell her yourself,” Gena said as she closed her car door. I got to get going, I got a lot of money and I got a lot of spending to do with it. I do not have time to be talking to you about your make-pretend love affair with my cousin.

  Her mind raced as she tried to figure out where to go first. She needed new clothes and new shoes and there it was. Sure as daylight was shining, there it was, the black BMW.

  “Aww, hell no, not this following me shit again.”

  She turned on Thirteenth Street, then made a left on Wallace. I can’t believe this shit. Yes, the BMW was definitely tailing her again, merely three cars
behind her. What the fuck should I do? For thirty minutes Gena drove aimlessly, all the while being followed. She wasn’t sure what to do or where to go. She wondered if she parked the car and walked on foot would she still be followed. Probably. She pulled into the Gallery Mall parking lot on Eleventh Street in Center City. It didn’t seem as though the BMW followed her inside the parking lot, though. She kept driving up the ramp and then back down and then back up and she didn’t see the BMW anywhere. I wonder where it went? she thought, still looking all around the parking lot. She parked her 300CE and paced herself as she walked into the mall, desperate to elude whoever was following her, but now that she was out of the car and in the mall, it seemed as if no one was behind her. If someone was, it would be hard to keep up with her. The mass of people shopping in the Gallery was her haven, a much-needed comfort zone. She walked through the lower level of the mall until she got to the Eighth Street exit, convinced she was getting away from her follower. She crossed Market and made her way over to Jewelers’ Row, all the while making sure that no one was following her and there was no black BMW in sight.

  She walked down Jewelers’ Row looking at all the window displays until she came across a shop called Barsky’s. She couldn’t help herself, she just couldn’t. When she found Quadir’s safe, all she thought of was clothes, shoes, and jewelry. She wanted a necklace, some diamond earrings, and a bracelet, and the window display had the look she was looking for.

  “How much for that?” Gena asked, pointing at a particularly brilliant platinum and diamond ring sitting in the display case.

  “That one is thirty-two thousand dollars,” said the jeweler, Ray Feldman, across the glass countertop case between them.

  Gena nodded and continued to browse the items in the glass case. “What about this one?”

  Ray lifted the ring into the air and quickly examined the tag attached to the ring’s head. “This one is . . . twenty five thousand dollars.”

  “Can I see it?” Gena asked.

  “Give me your hand,” Ray said.