Criminal Minded (19 page)

Read Criminal Minded Online

Authors: Tracy Brown

BOOK: Criminal Minded
5.33Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
the quiet storm
Lamin’s wedding took place three months later, in August of
1996. It was lovely. Dream was escorted down the aisle by her father, and she looked gorgeous in a skintight, satin, strapless Vera Wang gown. The best part was that Curtis had just come home from jail, and he stood as Lamin’s best man. Zion was also in the wedding as a groomsman, along with Uncle Eli, and Doug, one of the street corner pharmacists who had worked with Zion and Lamin for years. Dream’s sister, Destiny, was her maid of honor (Curtis flirted with her the whole time) and the bridesmaids were me and two of Dream’s friends. We wore slinky, silk gowns in a soft pale blue. It was absolutely beautiful.
Papa, wearing a derby, and Grandma were seated up front, where they stood in as Lamin’s parents. Mommy didn’t come to the wedding because Wally was sick. Lamin hadn’t wanted to invite her anyway. Aunt Inez brought a date, to everyone’s surprise, a distinguished older man named Fred. She seemed happy, and I hoped he would continue to treat her like royalty. They held hands the whole time. Zion was my escort down the aisle. I couldn’t help pretending that this was our wedding day—wishful thinking on my part. But, it was the closest thing to perfect. The R&B sensation, Lena Rae, sang at the ceremony. Lamin had produced and directed her music video. She was up and coming, and her voice was glorious. I was impressed. The event was
star-studded, and cameras flashed from all directions. I had never seen a wedding more beautiful than Lamin’s.
At the reception, Dream and Lamin looked so happy together. They danced the first dance to Patti LaBelle’s “Love and Need and Want You, Baby,” gazing into each other’s eyes. It was so romantic. But I still thought Lucky should have been the one in the wedding gown. I always thought Lamin would marry Lucky. She and I had become so close over the years, and I knew that she loved my brother. I felt bad for Lucky, and I was disappointed that she wasn’t the new Mrs. Michaels. I hardly knew Dream. She certainly wasn’t my choice for a sister-in-law. Imagine my shock when I returned from Aruba to find out that Lamin had not only broken up with Lucky—but he was engaged to another woman that fast! I couldn’t believe it. And I didn’t believe he loved Dream like he loved Lucky. But this was my brother’s day. I put my feelings aside and helped him celebrate his marriage.
Papa and Grandma danced together like two teenagers in love and it was so sweet. Papa’s hat never left his head as he danced with movements as smooth as butter. They made me believe in love. Maybe someday I would have that.
I sat staring at Zion’s sexy self, standing by the bar talking to Lena Rae. She reached up and touched his freshly braided cornrows (Zion had grown his hair out and it only made him sexier than ever), and I fumed in my seat. I hadn’t spoken to him much since Donovan’s murder. Both of us had gotten caught up in Lamin’s big wedding production, plus Zion had taken two trips out of town in the past two months, so our paths hadn’t crossed that much. Seeing him talking to this lovely woman with a voice that could calm the stormy seas, I couldn’t help feeling jealous.
“Looks like you wanna scratch Shorty’s eyes out!”
I turned and realized that Curtis, who knew me so well, was sitting beside me with a smirk on his face. “Let me find out she stole your man!”
I frowned. “Who? Zion? Nah, he’s just a friend …”
“I’ve heard that before! Gimme a break. The only reason you
would stare at a chick with that much hate in your eyes is if she had somethin’ you want.”
Curtis knew me so well. “She just thinks she’s all of that,” I said.
Curtis kissed my cheek. “Everyone knows that you’re the only star in this room right now.”
I smiled. “Come on and dance with your cousin,” he said, pulling me to the dance floor. We danced together crackin’ jokes on some of the other people on the dance floor. Then Papa came over and cut in. “I ain’t had a dance with my granddaughter all night.”
Curtis happily let me enjoy a dance with Papa while he danced with Grandma. Papa could dance like a professional. He twirled me around and even dipped me. I had such a nice time, laughing and dancing with my grandfather, that I forgot all about Zion and Lena Rae. “Papa, aren’t you a little disappointed that Lamin married Dream instead of Lucky?” I asked.
Papa nodded his head. “Sure I am, sugar. We all loved Lucky like part of the family. In fact, Lucky was the best woman for your brother. But this is Lamin’s life, and we gotta let him live it. You can’t tell nobody who to love. All we can do now is give him our support.”
And so I did just that. I even proposed a toast to the couple, congratulating them on their marriage and warning Dream that she better be good to my brother. Or else. And I meant it.
Toward the end of the reception, there were only about fifty guests remaining. As I was sitting alone at a corner table, Zion strode over and sat down beside me. This was our first time alone since I returned from Aruba, and my heartbeat was damn near audible. I smiled nervously, and Zion smiled back. He was so handsome, but with his hair in cornrows he looked even better. He reminded me of that singer Ginuwine and I was weak in the knees from his mere presence.
“Hello, stranger,” he said. “I haven’t seen you in a while, so I think you’ve been avoiding me.”
I shook my head. “No, I haven’t. I guess we just keep missing each other.” I paused, waiting for him to say something. When he didn’t, I spoke once more. “Zion, I never got to say thank you for—”
“Are you talking about that muthafucka that laid hands on you?” Zion asked, cutting me off in midsentence.
I nodded. “I appreciate—”
“Don’t thank me for that, Olivia. I would do it again in a heartbeat.” We sat there, looking at each other, awkwardly still. Zion looked at me with such intensity that I felt self-conscious. He seemed to be looking at every crevice on my body, my face, my hands, as if he were seeing a work of art. Finally, he spoke. “Yo, Olivia … I never wanted Lamin to know that I was into you. I guess I was too pussy to tell my boy that I was fuckin’ his little sis, ya know. But I
was
feelin’ you. Don’t get it twisted.”
I smiled. “Well, for the record, Zion, you’ll always be my heart. I don’t care how many divas in the music industry you fuck wit’.”
He knew I was talkin’ about his little track record with all the singers Lamin worked with. He couldn’t deny it, so he just smiled and shook his head. Then his face turned serious once more. “I don’t care what Lamin thinks anymore.”
I fought the smile that crept across my face. Zion and I just sat there looking at each other, both of us unfamiliar with what we were feeling. “You’re special, Olivia. None of these lames you been dealing with deserves you. And to be honest, I ain’t really tryin’ to see you with nobody else. So, what’s up?”
Zion was so rough. Even his attempt at romance came across like thug love. “What about your girl Lena Rae over there?” I asked. “I saw her touching your braids and smiling like she’s in a Crest commercial. She might not appreciate hearing what you just said to me.”
Zion grinned slightly. “So go tell her what I said. Go ’head. Tell her that I ain’t worried about Lamin no more and I wanna be with you.” Zion was looking at me the same way he used to when we made love. He looked like he saw right through me.
“I want you to kiss me if you mean what you’re saying.” I said it, fully aware that this would be the ultimate test. Zion wasn’t one for public displays of affection with any woman. Surely, he was aware of
the few remaining photographers scattered throughout the reception hall. He knew that Lamin was standing just across the room with Dream. My grandparents were there, the boys from the block were there. What would he do. I waited.
Zion looked into my eyes. He licked his lips and leaned closer. Our lips were inches apart, and I heard people nearby begin to whisper. Zion first kissed me softly on the lips. Then he kissed me fully, pulling me into his arms and tasting the Merlot on my tongue. I saw the cameras begin to flash as we ended our kiss. And then Grandma started clapping. Everyone else quickly joined in, and I saw my brother stand and raise his glass in salute to me and Zion. We were officially a couple, with Lamin’s blessing, and I was thrilled. I was smiling from ear to ear, and Zion seemed just as happy. Curtis, who was neither clapping nor toasting, quickly exited out the side door. I noticed, although no one else seemed to.
Lamin and Dream honeymooned in Paris—the city of love. And I prayed that the joy we all felt that day would continue forever. I pushed the tragedy with Donovan out of my mind and I was more determined than I had ever been to find peace and happiness with Zion.
I found out about Lamin’s wedding when I opened
Ebony
magazine one Monday morning. It was ironic that I would learn of his marriage from the media just as I had learned of his infidelity from the media. The magazine printed a detailed article and a four-page pictorial showing the happy couple on their wedding day. As much as I wanted to pretend otherwise, I was hurt. I still loved Lamin. I would probably love him for the rest of my life. I always thought that I would be his wife—that I would be his bride in a big, star-studded, extravagant ceremony. But it wasn’t me.
I was happy for Olivia, though. They ran a photo of her kissing Zion, and they looked like the most beautiful couple on the planet. I
wished them happiness, despite the fact that I was more miserable than ever. Depressed, I closed the magazine and cried for what I hoped would be the last time.
After leaving Lamin, I humbly moved back to my parents’ house. There was no need to explain my reasons for leaving since it seemed that everyone had seen the infamous photo in the newspaper. It was embarrassing, and I had never been more humiliated. Olivia had called me several times, but I couldn’t find the strength to talk to her without crying. And I didn’t want to cry to her and risk Lamin finding out just how devastated I really was. So I avoided her calls and ignored her messages. Papa even called once, about a month after Lamin and I split. I was in the bathtub soaking away my sorrows when the phone rang. I didn’t answer it. Instead, I let the answering machine pick up. I heard Papa’s old-school baritone sounding so familiar as he spoke. “Lucky, baby, this is your boy, Papa.” I smiled. Papa hadn’t been a ‘boy’ for a long time. “I know you and Lamin are going through your hard times,” he said. “But you gon’ always be family to me and my wife. If you ever need us for anything, you let us know. I know you remember how much I like to give advice, so if you need some, I ain’t but a phone call away. You be good now, and take care.” I cried enough tears to make the tub overflow as I grieved for the void left in my life. I loved Lamin’s family just as much as I loved him. I missed them so much. But I still couldn’t bring myself to call them.
My friends rallied around me to offer me a shoulder to cry on. I spent a lot of time with Veronica and Audrey and I was grateful to have them to lean on. The whole experience was devastating. My whole lifestyle changed. I was no longer eating in five-star restaurants, going to the spa for facials or massages, or spending thousands of dollars in shopping sprees where I never had to look at the price tag. I didn’t have those luxuries anymore. But it wasn’t the money that I missed most of all. It was Lamin. I was twenty-two years old. I had loved and lost, and I was sick about it. I swore to myself that I would never love again—never allow myself to feel pain like that again.
My mother understood my pain. She held me in her arms and just
rocked me when I needed to cry. She didn’t say “I told you so” and she didn’t tell me to forget about Lamin and move on with my life. She let me go through my pain and she helped me by simply being understanding. My father, on the other hand, was condescending. He made remarks like, “Why are your eyes so puffy, Laila? You’ve been crying over that no good nigga again? Do you think he’s wasting time crying over you?”
I moved out as soon as I was able to. I got myself an apartment on Staten Island and began to piece together my life on my own for the first time. But reading about Lamin’s wedding was enough to set me back. I found myself feeling all the same emotions all over again. But eventually I made up my mind that I would not wallow in self-pity. Lamin had moved on with his life so quickly. And I had to pick myself up and move on just the same. No matter how much it hurt.
my downfall
1997
Sometimes niggas can be so stuck in their old ways that
they’re scared of change. I was one of them niggas. Hindsight is supposedly twenty-twenty, and lookin’ back on it now, I see where I went wrong.
After all this time, I was trying to keep my crown in the streets and still get paid off of Shootin’ Crooks, where I was a silent partner. I shoulda let it go—shoulda walked away from the game when Lamin did. But the game was all I knew, and I wanted to always be true to it. Plus I was greedy. That was my first mistake.
My next mistake was underestimating the weakness of some of the links in my own drug chain. These weaknesses had been around for a while, and I had managed to maneuver my men without bloodshed up to that point. But, now I had connections that were priceless, and I was selling more weight than any of my competitors. I was the nigga to see in Staten Island and Fort Greene. My reputation was the stuff legends are made of. And my lieutenants—who were once loyal because I kept them wealthy—were now beginning to come up short and get sloppy. A couple had gotten arrested in the past couple of weeks—mostly for dumb shit, like driving with a suspended license or possession of small amounts of marijuana. So, I was aware that these dudes were fuckin’ up. I knew the cops seemed to have us on their
radar. But, I never thought any one of my guys would be dumb enough to try and cross me. I was wrong.
I got a phone call at one o’clock in the morning from Misa. She was my nigga Doug’s wifey. Doug held down my Staten Island sector of business. Me, him, and Lamin went back a lot of years. We brought Doug on board just as we stepped our game up to selling weight. He was loyal and down for whatever. Until now.
Misa was hysterical and I immediately felt a dullness in the pit of my stomach. “They got him, Zion! Fuckin’ cops stormed up in here and arrested him!”
“What happened?” I sat up in my bed and turned the lamp on.
Misa could hardly speak between her sobs. “They beat the shit out of him, too, right in front of me!”
“Calm down, and tell me what happened, Misa!”
She took an audibly deep breath. “Them muthafuckas barged up in here while we were sleepin’ and put a gun to his head. They told him to give you up. They wanted him to set you up—to call you over here so they could get you, too. He wouldn’t do it, Zion. He said he didn’t know your number and they beat his ass.”
Many thoughts went through my head. I wondered why Misa would call my house from the same apartment that had just been raided. I also wondered what the cops had found when they raided Doug’s apartment. “Tell him not to call me. I’ll get him out.” I hung up the phone and dialed my crooked lawyer.
While I was talking to him, Olivia turned over and looked at me with her sleepy eyes. “What happened?” she asked. I shushed her and continued my conversation. Maury Pendelstein, lawyer to all of New York’s finest crooks, agreed to go to Staten Island to see about Doug. I was gonna sit home and wait for the outcome.
I hung up the phone and sat back against the headboard. “What happened?” Olivia asked again. “Why were you on the phone with the lawyer at this time of night?”
“Doug got bagged. His girl called here all upset and shit. I had to send Maury down there to make sure they know he has a lawyer.”
“When are you gonna get out of this shit, Zion?”
“Please don’t start, baby girl. Please. Not right now.”
“Then, when, Zion? When are we gonna talk about it? When you get locked up? When the cops come chargin’ up in here lookin’ for you?”
“I don’t need this shit right now, Olivia!” I yelled. “Damn!”
I got out of bed and went into the kitchen. I opened up a beer and turned on the big living room TV Olivia came in behind me. She lit incense, sat down Indian-style on the sofa beside me, and rolled up a blunt. When she was done, she lit it and took some deep puffs. I watched her. She was such a gorgeous girl, and her personality was the icing on the cake. She exhaled the smoke through her nostrils and passed it to me. I gladly accepted, knowing that a high was exactly what I needed right then.
“Thank you,” I said. “I’m sorry I barked on you before.”
She shrugged her shoulders and looked at me. “Your bark is worse than your bite, so I ain’t worried about it.”
I smiled. We were the perfect couple. Olivia was just enough to keep me happy, but she had a wild side to her that intrigued the hell out of me. She was, to me, the ideal woman—fiery and sweet at the same time. The few arguments we’d had in the year we’d been together had been explosive ones. Neither of us ever backed down from a fight. But when we made up—the sex was so passionate that it couldn’t be healthy. I was head over heels for Olivia. And Lamin was happy as long as I kept her happy.
“So, what now?” she asked, as I handed her back the blunt. “What did they find when they raided Doug’s place?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. I have no idea. But as soon as Maury goes down there and gives me the 411, I’ll do what I gotta do.” I rubbed my hand across my braids in exasperation. “Baby girl, I know I gotta get out of this shit. I’m gonna quit, I promise. By the end of this year, Olivia, I’m gonna quit the game, okay?”
She looked skeptical. She’d heard it all before. But this time I was serious. I really did need to change my lifestyle if I had any hopes of
being with Olivia for the long haul. She was too precious for me to risk going to jail and leaving her behind. For her alone, I was willing to walk away.
“Okay, so let’s see,” she said, taking another few pulls off the blunt before passing it back to me. “It’s August now. So in four months, you’re getting out the game, Zion?” She pursed her lips as if to say,
Yeah, right!
I exhaled the smoke and looked at her sincerely. “Okay, you don’t have to believe me. But I’m gonna show you. You’ll see.”
We finished smoking and watched
Boomerang
until it went off. Finally, at three o’clock in the morning, Maury called me.
“Zion, it’s not looking good for your friend,” Maury said.
My heart sank. “What happened?”
“Mr. Douglas Jones has been charged with a medley of felonies. They found a kilo of cocaine and a pound of heroin in his home. They found three unlicensed handguns with the serial numbers scratched off, a bulletproof vest, and several rounds of ammunition. But that’s not even the worst of it.”
I couldn’t imagine what could be worse. I also couldn’t imagine how Doug could be stupid enough to have that much drugs in his house. Maury filled me in. “Doug was taped by an informant—a man who was apparently one of his customers. Sounds to me like the cops leaned on the informant and got him to consent to wear a wire. The tape captures Doug making a sale and discussing the quality of the narcotic with the informant. The bills that were used to pay for the drugs were marked, and they found that money in Doug’s apartment. They’re telling Doug that he can make this all easier on himself if he cooperates. They are encouraging him to give you up. You’re the one they really want. They’ve had their eye on you for a while, Zion. The problem is, you’ve been smart, so they can’t catch you in the act or set you up. But what they’re trying to do is put pressure on Doug to give you up. When I arrived they were explaining the minimum penalties under the Federal Sentencing Guidelines for the crimes that Doug is being charged with.”
I shook my head. “Doug won’t rat me out,” I said confidently.
Maury cleared his throat. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that, Zion. I don’t know Mr. Jones personally. But I do know criminals. He doesn’t strike me as the type who’ll be willing to take the fall to protect you. Your friend seems scared, Zion. I think you might have a problem on your hands.”
I had no idea just how accurate Maury’s instincts would prove to be.
They held Doug without bail, so I made sure I sent someone up there to put money on his books each week. Maury was costly, so I paid a different lawyer to take Doug’s case, and paid Maury for his assistance. Since I knew the cops had nothing on me, I went about my business as usual, kept living my life. But after exactly nine weeks, word on the street was that Doug had been released on bail. Funny thing was, since he’d gotten out of jail, Doug hadn’t bothered to contact me. He wasn’t staying with his girl anymore, so it seemed like he had pulled a damn good disappearing act. Something was very wrong.
Next, I started noticing cars parked outside of my home, with suspicious-looking men in them. These cars would pull away whenever I looked in their direction, but I noticed them. Olivia started noticing that she was being followed on her way to work in the morning. It was then that I accepted the fact that Doug was a snitch, and that the time was coming when I would be arrested. Only, I had made a promise to myself that I had no intention of breaking. I was not going back to prison.
Maury confirmed my suspicions and told me that Doug had really ratted me out. He said that it wouldn’t be long before the police came for me. They finally got around to muscling me on the set of one of the Shootin’ Crooks video shoots. I was sitting with Olivia on the sidelines when two detectives walked up on the scene looking like they were happy to see me. I continued talking to Olivia, even as they rudely interrupted.
“Mr. Williams. How the hell are ya?” This one was a fat, pink, swollen muthafucka. His shirtsleeves were rolled up, and he looked
hot and nasty in the August heat. He obviously noticed the frown on my face as I looked at him like a sloppy pig. He said, “What’s with the fuckin’ grimace, huh?”
“Yo, watch your mouth,” I warned him. “There’s a lady standing here.”
He gestured toward Olivia with an apologetic wave and a sarcastic grin. “I beg your pardon, miss. I know you’re in love with this guy, and my heart goes out to you.” I deduced that he’d been watching me for a long time. “My name is Detective Burgher and this is my partner Detective Baldwin. We’re investigating your drug-peddling boyfriend here. And—I must say—you are way too beautiful to be wasting your time with a sonofabitch like this guy. Too bad you don’t date white men.”
He was obviously trying to provoke me to react in anger. Olivia frowned and said, “You ugly, sweaty, cracker muthafucka! What the hell do you want?”
“And she’s classy, Zion!” Detective Burgher said sarcastically. “Damn, I’m jealous.”
His partner spoke for the first time. “Come on, Mr. Williams, let’s go somewhere and talk for a minute. We got a couple of things to tell ya.” Detective Baldwin gestured toward a van parked at the corner. I declined.
“Nah. Am I under arrest? If not, I don’t have to go with you. Anything you have to say, can be said right here in front of her.” I stood my ground and Olivia sat patiently waiting for the detectives’ next move.
Detective Baldwin looked at his partner and smirked as if laughing at my testicular fortitude. I waited. Finally, Burgher broke the silence. “Zion, we got you right where we want you, buddy. Why don’t you cooperate with us, and let us help you out.”
“Why would you ever want to help out a nigger like me?” I could tell he was a racist by his overall demeanor toward me and Olivia. I made the statement hoping he would feed right into it. He didn’t disappoint me.
“I wouldn’t. I was bullshittin’, ya wise ass!” He lit a Marlboro and
blew the cigarette smoke in my direction. “Your cronies are flipping on ya, Zion. You should have known they’d buckle under pressure. They’re giving you up.”
I didn’t flinch. “So why not arrest me?”
He took a couple more puffs of his cigarette and then looked at me with squinted eyes. “You haven’t given me the big score that I’m lookin’ for yet, Zion.” His breathing was heavy, like it excited him to go after me like this. “I have to have enough to put your punk ass in prison for life. You degenerate!” He wiped some spit that had flown out of his own mouth and landed on his lip. He was so intense, but I wasn’t the least bit fazed. “I am watching you, and I will get you.”
“Okay, officers—” Olivia started.
“
Detectives
, thank you,” Baldwin corrected her.
“Whatever!” she said. “Thank you for coming to relay your message. We heard you. Good-bye, now.”
“You can trust me, Mr. Williams. Your day is coming. See your ass in court.” The two of them walked off toward the same van that I’d seen parked everywhere I went for the past several days. Olivia looked at me, questioningly.
I knew what I had to do.
I was back around the way, kickin’ it with my boys. I was staying out of trouble, unlike the last time I was home. I didn’t want to go back to prison. I was back working for Lamin. It hurt my pride a little. It felt like I was takin’ a handout, ’cause I didn’t really have to work for Lamin to pay me. I got money all the time from my cousin. Yes, when Lamin attended awards shows and movie premieres, I was there making sure that he was protected and all that shit. But I was still just head of security. Zion was the one sitting at the helm of the company with Lamin. I felt that if Lamin made me a partner like he made Zion one, it would have been better for everybody. But he never offered me that.
My moms was in love with this nigga that I thought was too good
to be true. So, rather than live in her home and rain on her parade, I got an apartment on South Avenue. I had a shorty—a chick named Michelle that wrote to me while I was locked up. Letters are like fresh air when you’re doing a bid. So, she had been a big factor in my ability to survive the whole ordeal. She was a decent-looking young lady with a nine to five and a good head on her shoulders. She kept me happy and I kept her spending. It was mutually beneficial.
It was good for me to kick it with my old boys. Most of them were still hangin’ on the block, doing the same shit we used to do as kids. Not much had changed. But when I saw Doug in the corner store, I was so glad to see him. He was my boy from back in the day. The first time I got locked up, Doug sent me packages and put money on my books. I never forgot that kindness, and I was pleased to see my boy. It had been a while since I last saw him. I gave him a firm handshake and asked how he was doin’. He seemed a little standoffish, and I wondered why. But only briefly. He warmed up when I said that I had the munchies and wanted a beef patty desperately. I could tell he was high as well, and we shared a laugh.
I told Doug where I was staying at, and I let him know he was welcome to come by and smoke with me anytime. He said he would take me up on that offer. Doug got his cigarettes and left the store. I got my beef patty, went home, and waited for Michelle to come back from the nail salon.
That same night, Doug came by. He sat up in the living room with me, and we talked about how things had changed and the consequences of doing a bid. I told him about my experience, and he talked about his own recent brush with the law. By the time we smoked our second blunt, our discussion had turned to the topic of Zion. Doug was pissed off about the fact that Zion had left him to shoulder the burden of a prison bid. That was never part of the plan. I let Curtis know that I didn’t fuckin’ like Zion. I couldn’t stand the muthafucka. I felt that Zion was out for self. He had infiltrated my family by hooking up with Olivia. He had also maneuvered himself into Lamin’s
company, and I didn’t like his style. He seemed shady, and Doug’s revelations only confirmed my suspicions.
Doug left that night around midnight. We agreed to get together soon and he walked off toward the projects. I gave Michelle some damn good sex that night, and I slept like a baby afterward.
It was the last time I ever saw Doug alive.

Other books

The Stair Of Time (Book 2) by William Woodward
Alena: A Novel by Pastan, Rachel
Dark Sky (Keiko) by Mike Brooks
Loaded by Cher Carson