Animal 2 (15 page)

“Talk to me, Kahllah,” Animal urged.

Kahllah was hesitant. “I wasn't supposed to say anything, but my conscience won't let me keep it, even if it goes against Father's wishes. Your little friend's name is floating around on a piece of paper. I trust you know what that means.”

Animal did. It was a term used when a hit was placed on someone. “That ain't nothing new. Since all this has popped off, a lot of people want Ashanti dead because of his affiliation with me or King James.”

“This has nothing to do with either of you. Word is, Ashanti and his crew murdered someone very close to Swann, and he isn't taking it too well.”

“Fuck Swann and whoever got bodied. We all soldier and understand the risks,” Animal said.

“This wasn't a soldier. It was a low-level pimp who didn't have any parts in this war, outside of his affiliation with Swann. Swann is going crazy over this,” Kahllah explained.

Animal shrugged. “Niggaz die every day. Why is Swann taking this so personal?”

“Probably because this time it hit a little closer to home. Swann and the boy were close, very close. Some say it was Swann's nephew, but I have other suspicions, which I won't speak on. Swann has put a bounty of fifty thousand dollars on Ashanti's head, and I don't need to tell you that every scum bag looking for a come-up is going to come crawling out of their holes for that fifty stacks. As we speak, there are killers en route to try and collect.”

“I gotta go to him.” Animal stepped toward the door, but Kahllah blocked his path.

“Now, you know I can't let you go running the streets and
compromise what we have going on,” Kahllah told him. “Father says that I am to make sure that you two stay put, which is what I intend on doing.” She set her purse on the floor near the door. You could hear the distinct clang of metal inside. “Ashanti is in the hood right now, among all his troops, so he'll be fine . . . at least, I hope. Either way, I can't let you leave. All we can do is pray for him.

“Kahllah, I don't know what planet you grew up on, but where I'm from, bullets are more reliable than prayer. Now, let me go!” Animal barked.

“You can talk as loud as you want, Animal, but ain't nothing popping.” Kahllah folded her arms.

“Kahllah, I don't want to hurt you,” Animal warned.

“Nor do I want to hurt you, Animal. So let's not dance this dance if we don't have to. Now, I've got a phone call to make, and the reception is horrible up here, so I'm going
way
over to the other side of the church to use the phone in the office. While I'm gone, I strongly suggest that you mind your manners and
do not
snoop around in things that don't concern you.” She tapped her purse with her foot. “Do we understand each other?”

Animal was stumped. He wondered if this was some sort of trick. He searched Kahllah's face, but she was impossible to read. “Yeah, we understand each other.”

“Good.” Kahllah turned and left, leaving behind her purse and key.

“What the hell was that all about?” Gucci asked.

“A wise man once said, ‘Never look a gift horse in the mouth,' ” Animal told her, and scooped the motorcycle key off the writing desk. He started to grab the helmet too, so as
to conceal his identitiy, but figured it might do him more harm than good. A grown man riding around on a pink bike was bad enough, but a helmet to go with it would draw more attention than he needed. Next, he went to the bag she'd left and began to rummage through it. At the bottom, he found a welcome surprise—two, actually. Wrapped in a customized leather harness were a pair of twin rose-tinted chrome Glocks with red rubber grips. “My bitches!” Animal said excitedly. “Pretty Bitches” was the pet name he'd given the guns when he received them as a birthday gift many years before. He thought he'd never see them again after Shai's men had disarmed him in the scrap yard. “It's on,” Animal said, slipping into the harness and sliding the guns into their holsters.

“Animal, I know you want to help Ashanti, but think on it for a minute. Are you sure we can trust Kahllah? This may be a trap,” Gucci pointed out.

“Baby girl, right now, I'm sure of two things: the fact that I love you and the fact that Ashanti ain't gonna die on my watch. I gotta go.” Animal kissed Gucci on the lips and slipped out before she could protest further.

•  •  •

Gucci sat there alone, wrapped in the sheets and staring at the empty doorway. She wanted to be mad at Animal for rushing off and leaving her again, but she couldn't. Gucci knew his heart better than anyone, and his heart wouldn't allow him to leave a friend in time of need, even if it was at the risk of his own life. His loyalty was one of the reasons she loved him so much.

From the tiny window, she heard the loud roar of a motorcycle engine being revved. A chill swept across her shoulders, and she was suddenly overcome with an eerie feeling. She was
afraid, afraid that history was repeating itself and that she had been reunited with her lover only to lose him again, far too soon. Animal had already cheated the Reaper twice, and she hoped that the third time wouldn't be the charm.

“Please bring him back to me,” Gucci said, offering up a quiet prayer.

•  •  •

Priest arrived back at the church just in time to see Animal go whipping by him on Kahllah's motorcycle. He wished that he could say he was surprised that his son had made a break for it. He'd expected as much, only not quite so soon.

“Because the law worketh wrath: for where no law is, there is no transgression,” Priest said, quoting Romans 4:15. “Let your hand be stayed no longer, my fallen angel. Loose your wrath, and make your enemies tremble in your wake.”

B
Y THE TIME
A
SHANTI MADE
it to the hood, he had missed the meeting King James had called, but he didn't need to be in attendance to get the gist of what it was about. On the whole ride back to the block from the precinct, the ghetto grapevine worked overtime delivering varying accounts of what had happened. The one thing all the stories had in common was that somebody had tried to off King James, and that was all Ashanti cared about. King had taken him in and treated him like family when he didn't have shit, so Ashanti was taking the attempt on his life personally.

“You cool, baby?” Fatima asked when the cab pulled to a stop on the corner.

“Yeah, I'm straight,” Ashanti answered, but he didn't turn to look at her. His eyes were locked on the playground in front of the building and all the people in it. It seemed like everybody in the hood was outside.

Abel met them at the curb. He was wearing a black army jacket and black fitted cap, pulled low over his eyes. A scowl crossed his normally jovial face.

Ashanti jumped out of the cab first. He extended his hand and helped Fatima out before giving Abel dap. Abel was about to say something, but Ashanti gave him the signal to hold on while he tended to his lady. “Baby, I'm about to hit the turf and see what's going on out here.”

“I already know,” Fatima said. “Listen, don't bullshit around out here all night. I still wanna dip off.”

“Let me just see what the situation is, then we'll figure it out,” Ashanti told her.

“Baby, whatever the situation is tonight, it'll still be the same situation tomorrow. I wanna get out of the city, even if it's just for the night.”

“OK,” Ashanti said, agreeing in a less-than-sincere tone.

Fatima grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him to her. She kissed his lips passionately, sucking on his tongue. “Come take care of this pussy tonight, and you can play with your friends tomorrow,” she whispered, grabbing his dick through his jeans.

“You playing dirty.” Ashanti smiled.

“You ain't seen dirty until you see the outfit I'm going upstairs to get. Act like you know.” Fatima sauntered off. She waved to the few people she knew in the playground and disappeared into the building.

Once Fatima was gone, Ashanti's mind was back on business. “What's popping?” he asked Abel.

“Man, shit crazy out here. Some Jersey niggaz tried to push King. They saying Swann set it up.”

“Then Swann is a dead man,” Ashanti said, heading toward the playground where everyone was congregating.

Ashanti picked his way through the crowd, dapping those
he knew personally and nodding to those he was only familiar with by face. It seemed like everybody was out, from the soldiers to the nosy-ass locals who were just trying to figure out what was going on. King James was a like a celebrity in the hood, so whenever something went on with him, it was big news.

“Yo,” Ashanti heard someone call. He turned and saw Zo-Pound huddled in the shadows of the playground. Zo was almost invisible in a big black hoodie. All you could see was the cherry from the blunt he was smoking, burning within the dark folds of his hood.

“What it do, Zo?” Ashanti went over and embraced him.

“Quiet, but 'bout to turn up.” Zo exhaled the smoke. His red eyes passed over Cain and Abel. “Why don't y'all give us a minute?”

The twins looked at Ashanti. Only when he gave them the signal did they leave.

“You got them two trained, huh?” Zo asked.

Ashanti watched the twins as they walked off whispering to each other, before they disappeared into the flow of people. “Nah, they ain't trained, they loyal.”

“Never give a man that much credit until he proves it,” Zo told him. “But fuck that, what's good with you? I heard one-time grabbed you up.”

“Yeah, Brown and Alvarez ran down on us earlier. You know they stay on some ho shit,” Ashanti said, as if it wasn't a big deal.

“What did they want?” Zo asked.

“Pressing me for a body,” Ashanti said.

“Damn, them boys staying reaching. Who got dropped?”

“Some lame-ass nigga named Rick Jenkins,” Ashanti said, watching Zo's face for a reaction.

“Who is that?” Zo faked asking as if he were clueless.

“You remember the dude from the dice game. The one you kept asking about,” Ashanti reminded him.

Zo cocked his head to one side as if he was trying to remember. “Oh, yeah, the dark-skinned nigga with the trick dice? That wasn't about nothing. I thought he was somebody else, but as it turns out, he wasn't. Them bitch-ass niggaz Brown and Alvarez must be really hard up if they're trying to pin a random murder on you.”

“It ain't me they looking at for clipping old boy. It's
you
,” Ashanti informed him.

There was the telltale facial twitch. “I ain't killed nobody,” Zo said, but he didn't sound very convincing.

“Zo, you've been in my corner through thick and thin. You're more than just a homie, you're family. Family rides for family, right or wrong, so you know I got your back, but I need you to keep it one hundred with me about this, so I can know what we're up against.”

Zo was silent for a few long moments. When he looked at Ashanti, there was a coldness to his eyes that Ashanti had only seen once before, and that was when he and Zo-Pound had murdered the boy Sean near the park.

“Talk to me, Zo,” Ashanti urged him.

“Ashanti, let me tell you a story . . .” Zo began. “I was watching a movie once. I think it was a biopic about Harriet Tubman. There was this scene when she was about to lead the slaves north, and all their loved ones came to see them off. There was an old woman among them wearing a blindfold.
When they asked her why she was wearing the blindfold, she replied it was so that if she was ever implicated in it, even under the threat of torture or death, she could say in all honesty that she hadn't laid eyes on them and didn't have to die with a lie on her tongue.”

Ashanti was about to press the issue when King James walked up. He was with Lakim, Dee, and a neighborhood kid they all called Shorty. Shorty was from the neighborhood but wasn't a part of their crew. He was barely into his teens, so King didn't allow him to touch drugs. Instead, they helped him keep money in his pocket through odd jobs, like going to the store or delivering messages that couldn't be spoken on telephones. Ashanti had always like Shorty because he reminded him of himself when he was that age: young, dumb, and far too willing.

“What up, my nigga? I heard you got bagged. Glad to see you back on the streets.” King James embraced Ashanti.

“Yeah, that shit wasn't about nothing. Those dicks, Alvarez and Brown, were just busting my balls,” Ashanti told him.

“I think being questioned about a murder is a little more than busting your balls,” King said.

Ashanti seemed surprised that King knew what had gone on and he hadn't told him yet, but his face revealed nothing. “That shit didn't have nothing to do with me.”

“What did you tell them?” Lakim asked.

“What the fuck do you mean, what did I tell them? I didn't tell them shit,” Ashanti said with an attitude.

“Don't get your panties in a bunch, lil' nigga. I was just asking. Can't be too careful with snitching being at an all-time high,” Lakim said, half-jokingly.

Ashanti's face became serious. “Dig this, my nigga, you ever mention me and snitching in the same breath, and I'm gonna need that fade from you.”

“I'm just fucking with you.” Lakim slapped Ashanti on the back. He was laughing, but Ashanti wasn't.

“You know my nigga is built Ford tough,” Zo said, speaking up in his partner's defense.

“Word, life. Ashanti is the last of a dying breed.” King James gave him dap. “But in the future, if the pigs ever run down on you, call that lawyer I plugged you with. You ain't gotta say shit, just let him handle it, ya heard?”

“No doubt,” Ashanti agreed.

“So I hear y'all went and handled that lil' business with Percy,” King said.

Ashanti shot Abel a look, because he knew he'd been the one who spilled the beans. Cain was locked up with him, and they were the only three who knew about it. “Yeah, Percy is no longer with us.”