Animal (5 page)

“You gentlemen have forgotten your pictures,” Sol called after them, referring to the graphic photos that were still lying on the ground in front of the restaurant.

Detective Alvarez ignored him and got back in the passenger seat, slamming the door firmly behind him. Detective Brown paused and addressed Sol. “Nah, you guys keep them. We’ve got plenty more at the station.” He paused. “Mr. Lansky, you’ve been around the block a few times. If you love Shai like you profess to, then talk to him and let him know what time it really is before he makes it to our collection of photographs.” Brown got behind the wheel of the Buick and peeled off.

Just as the detectives were pulling off, Scotty was hopping out of a taxi in front Daddy’s Kitchen. He was wearing a simple black V-neck sweater under a cream-colored blazer. Chugging along behind him was a thick Spanish chick, who was wearing a dress that was so tight you didn’t have to wonder what her intentions were for the night. Scotty was smiling from ear to ear because he couldn’t wait to come through the event sporting the porn star, but the smile faded when he saw the Buick pulling off and the look on Shai’s face. In less than three seconds his demeanor changed, and he went from homeboy to consigliore. He whispered for the porn star to meet him inside and walked over to see what was good with his friend.

“Was that who I think it was?” Scotty asked, giving Shai dap and nodding in salute to the others.

“Yeah,” Shai said, still staring out into traffic. He was so mad that he felt one of his fillings shift when he flexed his jaw. Shai had worked his ass off to clean up the Clark image and gain the support of the people who made the world go round, and the detectives tried to throw a monkey wrench in it by showing up there. People with power generally had secrets, and seeing him being accosted by the police might make some of them skittish.

Scotty noticed the pictures on the floor at Shai’s feet and frowned. He scooped the pictures up and flipped through them. “Take these shits somewhere and burn them,” he told Holiday, passing him the pictures. “Shai, what did them two dicks want?”

Shai dismissed it. “They ain’t want shit, just fishing as usual.”

Scotty screwed his face. “My nigga, pictures of dead bodies at your feet on one of the biggest nights of your life don’t look like fishing. Somebody tell me what the fuck is going on,” he said, looking at all the men assembled.

“They’re saying that somebody murked them cats in the pictures to send a message to Shai,” Angelo spoke in a hushed tone.

“Did they say who?” Scotty asked.

“That’s what they came to ask us.”

Scotty ran his hand over his face in frustration. “Leave it to the police to be more clueless than most. Well, we ain’t at war with anybody that I know of so my question is; who might’ve been holding a big enough grudge to risk getting wiped off the fucking map for disrespecting this thing of ours?” He looked at Shai.

“Someone with very little to lose,” Sol answered for Shai.

FOUR

A
NIMAL SLOUCHED IN THE CHEAP MOTEL CHAIR
with his feet outstretched and crossed at the ankles. Playing softly in the motel’s cheap CD player was the first mix tape he had released under Big Dawg. With his eyes half-closed, dreamily, he nodded and mouthed the lyrics. He had been sitting in that position almost the entire night, chain-smoking and replaying the night’s events over and over again in his head like his favorite movie. The heady rush of the kill had him too wired to sleep.

Sleep hadn’t come easy to Animal in a long time, and it became harder for him with every sin he committed. He was afraid of the things he would see when he closed his eyes. Sometimes he would stay awake until his body forced him into deep, dreamless sleep just to avoid the images that lived in his subconscious.

Old San Juan would forever be a stain on Animal’s already splotched soul. The war between Poppito and Cruz had torn apart the very streets that they both claimed to love so much.
Poppito was a powerful drug baron who commanded a small army, but Cruz was a crooked police captain and had the government on his side. Poppito couldn’t match Cruz’s resources, and it looked as if he would lose the war when, in an act of desperation, he made a pact with the devil and in came Los Negro Muertes.

Los Negro Muertes was a crew of mercenaries known throughout the Caribbean and coastal U.S. as the Black Death, a title they had earned from the trail of dead bodies they left in every city they visited. Their numbers were made up of outlaws from different ports who had sold their souls to the ringmaster of the deadly circus, K-Dawg. Animal watched as K-Dawg twisted the wills of his followers to where they were loyal to him above all, including their families. Animal had seen this firsthand when he found himself in a fight to the death with his own brother.

When Animal fled the clutches of Los Negro Muertes in an attempt to get back to Gucci, it was Justice who K-Dawg sent after him. Animal couldn’t believe his eyes when he came out of the church to find his brother waiting for him with some of K-Dawg’s men and orders to bring him back dead or alive. Animal sought to reason with his brother, but when Justice pointed that M16 at him, he knew there was no more to be said between them. In the shadow of a church in Old San Juan, history repeated itself and pit Cain against Abel, but in this version, it was Abel who bested Cain. When Animal opened his brother up and saw the blood, the same blood that pumped in his veins, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He spared Justice’s life, but left him with a scar letting him know he wouldn’t be as merciful the next time they met.

The first rays of the sun crept through the motel window and kissed Animal’s eyelids, bringing him back to the here and now. Animal stood and stretched the kinks out of his body from sitting in one position for so many hours. He stiffly pulled his hoodie over his head, then went about the hassle of stuffing his hair into the wool Rasta cap. With his disguise in place, Animal armed himself and headed for the door. As an afterthought, he went back and grabbed the CD from the player and took it with him.

Traffic was light at that hour of the morning. Animal rolled through the drive-through to grab two breakfast wraps and two coffees. He mashed both breakfast wraps and guzzled one of the coffees by the time he was pulling out of the McDonald’s parking lot and hung a left for the West Side Highway. He steered the rental with one hand and used the other to pour the last bit of liquor from the pint into the other coffee cup. It was way too early for him to be drinking and far too late for him to care.

Animal shot north on the West Side and merged with the morning commuters into the traffic leading toward the George Washington Bridge, heading into New Jersey. The ride to Jersey City was longer than it had to be because of the route that Animal had chosen to take. Going through the Holland would’ve put him in Jersey City in less than five minutes, but he took the G.W.B. because it was a less secure route. The last thing he needed was to be a victim of a random checkpoint and have some overzealous cop lose his life for trying to stand between Animal and fate.

He pushed the rental through the streets of Jersey City, navigating
more by instinct than the directions of the GPS on his lap. He wasn’t too familiar with Jersey, but he knew the place where he was going like the back of his hand. He turned into the driveway of the park and coasted through the parking area but didn’t see the car he had been tailing for the past few weekends. Since he didn’t see it, he pulled to the far end of the lot and decided to wait. One thing he had learned was patience. After checking to make sure his gun was loaded and a round chambered, he turned his attention to the basketball court a few feet away.

Teenagers crowded the court wearing either black or white basketball jerseys, playing ball, while an older white man in a warm-up suit barked instructions at them. Animal ignored most of the teens and searched for one in particular. It took a few minutes, but he finally spotted him at the other end of the court practicing his free throws. Animal studied his youthful brown face and couldn’t help but to marvel at how strongly all the men in that family resembled one another. Seeing the boy’s face took Animal to a place of pain and rage. His heart beat so hard in his chest that he feared people could hear it outside the car, so he turned up the volume on the CD spinning in the system. Something about the sound of his own voice soothed him, and he was able to calm down a bit, though not much. He was always on edge just before a kill.

Animal watched the boy as he and the rest of the teens performed a series of drills, then separated into two teams and played a game of full court basketball. The young boy was impressive as he moved fluidly up and down the court, scoring on the other kids with ease. He was a natural, and it was apparent to anyone watching. If the boy managed to fly straight he
would have a promising future, but if he was anything like the others, he would throw his future out the window once he got his first good whiff of the streets.

“Such a waste,” Animal said to no one in particular.

Animal had been so engrossed in watching the boy that he almost missed the SUV he had been waiting for turn into the parking area. It was a money green Yukon with tinted windows and a chrome grill to match the rims. As luck would have it, the hulking truck pulled to a stop directly behind the rental, boxing Animal in. Animal adjusted his rearview mirror so he could try to see who was inside. The tints made it almost impossible to make a positive ID on the driver, but it didn’t matter. They were dead. Shoving his pistol into his pants, Animal slid from the car to step to his business.

“That joint go hard.”

The voice startled Animal. He spun, ready to draw his weapon and cut down whoever had tried to get the drop on him, but caught himself when he realized it was the boy from the basketball court speaking to him. He hadn’t even heard him approach, but there he was standing less than three feet away.

“You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that, kid,” Animal told the boy.

“My fault, I was just trying to hear the song.” The kid took a cautionary step back. His eyes drifted from Animal’s face to the bulge under his shirt.

Animal started to shoo him away, but thought better of it. If he played it right he could use the boy to draw his prey out and put him at a disadvantage.

“You good, shorty,” Animal leaned against the rental. He positioned himself so that he could still see the Yukon in his
side mirror. As soon as the driver stepped out to investigate, Animal intended to splatter him.

“What you know about that?” Animal asked the boy.

“Man, it ain’t like nothing I ever hear round here,” the kid said with a slight accent. Animal could tell he was a native of the South, but couldn’t place exactly where.

“That’s because your generation don’t know much about real music.”

“Who is that?” the boy asked, fascinated with the complex lyrics.

Animal paused. “Just some dude I used to know.” He made small talk with the boy, while watching the Yukon the whole time. The driver finally got tired of waiting and made to get out of the car as Animal knew he would. “Go ahead and turn it up so you can really hear it.” Animal opened the door for the boy so he could get in and adjust the volume. While the boy fumbled with the stereo Animal drew his gun, ready to bang out on his enemy, but when he caught a glimpse of the reflection in the window of the open door, it wasn’t a man storming in his direction, but a female. In his haste for vengeance he had almost made a horrible mistake. Animal barely had time to throw the gun back in his pants before she was on them and furious.

“Boy, have you lost your damn mind?” The woman shoved Animal out of the way and snatched the boy from the vehicle. She was dark skinned and beefy with salt-and-pepper hair that she wore in feathered curls. “This ain’t the South. Little naïve boys get kidnapped in New York City,” she scolded him.

“Suge, I was only listening to the music,” the boy tried to explain.

“I don’t give a hoot what you were doing; it was dangerous. You know how your cousin is over you and ain’t no telling what he’d do if I let something happen to you,” she said. Animal could pick up the genuine fear in her voice under all her gruff bravado.