Diamonds and Pearl (31 page)

“So I'm supposed to let you go, just like that?” Devonte choked up.

“Nigga, whatever you do or don't do ain't my concern. I thought you was cool, but you turned out to be a real cornball. Lesson learned. Now lose my fucking number, clown!” She ended the call.

Pearl was in such a rage that she nearly threw her phone, until she remembered how much her father had paid for it. It would've been her second phone in two months, and he had made it clear she wouldn't be getting another one. Devonte had played himself, which he'd been doing a lot of lately. She could overlook the clinginess she'd started to notice in him, but disrespect was something she wouldn't tolerate from him or any other man. Part of her was sad she had to cut him from the team, because Devonte ate pussy better than any nigga she had ever laid with, but bomb head be damned, he couldn't stay in his lane so he was gone.

The smell of something tasty being cooked tickled her nose. Her stomach churned, reminding her that she hadn't eaten anything since dinner the previous evening. Sandra must've awoke from her drug-induced stupor and was getting busy in the kitchen. It was only right, seeing how her unofficial man was back from vacation and no doubt craving some home-cooked food. If Pearl knew Sandra the way she thought, Big Stone would be eating more than just bacon and eggs for the rest of the weekend. A well-fed and well-fucked man was a happy one, so Pearl decided to make her way downstairs to crack on her father for some mall money while he was in a good mood.

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

The smell of fried bacon filled the upstairs hallway of the house, causing Pearl's nose to twitch like Elizabeth Montgomery's in
Bewitched
. It was like the closer she got to the kitchen, the hungrier she became. Her mouth watered at the thought of tasting some of Sandra's homemade banana pancakes.

When she reached the bottom of the stairs, the first person she ran into was her brother Stoney. He had a shit-eating grin plastered across his face and a new gold chain hanging from around his neck.

“You see what Dad brought me back?” He brandished the round medallion hanging from the end of the chain.

“That's nice, little bro.” She leaned in closer to inspect it and saw that it bore his initials. “You better make sure you don't let one of these jack boys snatch it from you out in these streets.” She faked like she was going to grab the chain, but her little brother didn't even flinch.

“These muthafuckas ain't crazy enough to try me out here. They know who my daddy be,” Stoney said confidently.

“Stuff like that sounds cool when they say it in the movies, but that ain't how the real world works. Daddy has a lot of respect in the streets, so it does provide us a veil of protection, but never fool yourself into thinking any man is untouchable. For as many people there are that love Daddy, there are probably twice as many who hate him and would happily get at one of us to get to him,” she warned. “This is why I always be on your back about hanging with them thug-ass niggas Raheem and Domo.”

Stoney rolled his eyes, not really wanting to hear Pearl's speech. “Why you always sweating me about my friends?”

“Because your friends are baby criminals,” Pearl shot back. “Don't act like I don't know what time it is with them and that Blood shit they rep. They can do what they want, but if I ever find out either of them ever tried to recruit you into a gang, they're going to have a problem they don't want.”

“Nah, I ain't with that gang shit, Pearl. Domo and Rah my boys, but that ain't my style,” he said honestly.

“Better not be. Now, where's Daddy?”

“Last I checked, he was in the kitchen with Sandra.”

“Good.” She brushed past him. “If he brought your nappy-headed ass a chain, I can't wait to see what he's got for me.”

*   *   *

As soon as Pearl walked into the kitchen, she could pick up on the fact that something was wrong. Sandra was floating around, finishing up breakfast, but instead of her usual smile, she wore a look of great worry on her face.

Big Stone sat at the breakfast table, hunched over a half-eaten plate of bacon and eggs. His thick brows were knitted and his face sour as he spoke with someone on his cell phone. To his right sat his shadow, Knowledge. He had his cell phone in his hand too, thumbs moving frantically, composing a text or an e-mail. When they made eye contact, Pearl flashed him a smile, but he went right back to his typing. Something was up, and she had a feeling it was about her. Suddenly she was tempted to slip back out the way she had come in.

As if reading her mind, Big Stone raised his finger, motioning for her to give him a second while he finished his phone call. “Okay, I'll get there as soon as I can,” he said to whoever he was talking to. He listened for a few more seconds before ending the call. Placing the phone on the table, he turned his attention to Pearl.

“Hey, Daddy, how was your trip?” Pearl asked innocently.

“Stressful.” Big Stone huffed. “Take a seat. I need to talk to you about something.” He motioned to the empty chair opposite him.

Pearl sat in the chair with all the enthusiasm of a woman about to be interrogated by the police. “What's going on?”

“That's what I'm trying to figure out. I need to ask you something and I want an honest answer.”

“Um … okay.”

“Did you go out with your friends last night?” he asked.

Pearl's eyes immediately went to Knowledge, who just sat there, staring at her, waiting to hear her answer. She thought he had given her a chance the night before, but he must've ratted her out to her dad that morning. She didn't know why she was surprised. He was the guardian of the Stone family, but his loyalty was to Big Stone above all others.

“I … um…”

Sandra spoke up, to the surprise of both Pearl and Knowledge. “Pearl was home all night. We stayed up watching
The Ten Commandments
. I dozed off halfway through, but when I got up at about eleven thirty, she was in her bedroom, asleep.”

It was a lie, and both Pearl and Knowledge knew it, but Pearl wasn't about to question why Sandra was saving her ass. “Yeah, I was tired so I crashed early,” she continued the story. “Is something wrong?”

“There was an accident last night. A fire broke out at Pops's Bar on a Hundred and Forty-Fifth Street, and some people got hurt,” Big Stone said with a heavy heart.

This came as a surprise to Pearl. Things had been fine when she'd been there, so it must've happened after she'd left. Her thoughts immediately went to Marisa and Sheila. Even before he said it, she knew what would come next.

“The reason I asked you about it is because two of your people were there, the Haitian girl Sheila and T's little girl Marisa,” he informed her.

“Oh my God.” She slapped her hand over her mouth. “Are they…?”

“Calm down, honey. Marisa wasn't amongst the casualties,” Big Stone told her. “I just got off the phone with Tito, and he told me that the girls were rushed to Harlem Hospital. Marisa is being treated for some minor injuries, smoke inhalation and a sprained ankle. She'll be fine.”

“And Sheila?” Pearl asked, with hope in her heart. That hope died when Big Stone lowered his head.

“I'm sorry, honey.”

Pearl felt like someone had just slapped the taste out of her mouth. She was pissed off at Sheila for what she did, but not to the point where she would wish something like this on her. Guilt gripped her heart as she thought about her fight with Sheila and the nasty words they'd exchanged before she'd left. If only she hadn't been so quick to abandon her friends, Sheila might still be alive. When she thought of how horribly she must've died—trapped, alone, and burned alive—it made Pearl feel ill.

“You okay?” Sandra asked, noticing the color drain from Pearl's face.

“Yeah.” Pearl swallowed back the bile that was trying to escape her throat. “Could somebody give me a ride to the hospital?”

 

CHAPTER THIRTY

Domo awoke with a start and sat bolt upright. He couldn't remember what it was he had been dreaming about, but it had been troubling enough to startle him awake. It was funny, because he hadn't even recalled going to sleep.

After completing the job, Vita had dropped him and LA off in their hood. LA was still supercharged about what had happened and wanted to pop a few bottles in celebration of Domo catching his first homicide. Domo didn't think death was something that should be celebrated, but he agreed just to shut him up. He left LA in front of the liquor store and went home to change out of the no-name-brand shit Vita had given them to change into after the heist. He had only planned on being home for a few minutes at most, but at some point he had dozed off. When he woke up, it was the next day.

Swinging his long legs over the edge of his bed, he stretched his weary bones. He had been asleep for at least ten hours, but he was still tired. He plucked his phone from the floor and saw that he had 30 percent left on his battery and ten missed calls. The call log revealed that most of the calls had come from LA, Raheem, and his mother, but there was also a text from Vita. Curious, he opened the text and found only an address, date, and time. He guessed that was her way of requesting an audience with him, but he was still unsure how or if he would respond.

Rolling into that apartment with Vita was both the most terrifying and exciting thing he had ever experienced in his life. Domo had run up in spots before, but never for that big of a take and certainly never for a job that organized. Vita was meticulous in her planning and moved like a seasoned general in her execution. Domo had encountered some broads on the set who were down to let it go, but never one who had just the right balance of toughness and sex appeal to turn him more on than off.

Grabbing the charger wire hanging from the wall, Domo went to plug his phone in, but nothing happened. It was then that he remembered the reason he had taken LA up on his offer in the first place: their electricity had been shut off. Cursing under his breath, he shuffled into the kitchen and found a note pinned to the microwave.

Hey, Domonique,

Sorry about the electricity situation. Plan on handling it when I get in. I got two early hair appointments that should be able to cover what we owe. Can you throw out all the food that went bad? I'll restock the fridge when I get back. Left you some McDonald's in the microwave.

Love,

Mom

She must've come and gone while he was sleeping it off. Domo plucked the McDonald's from the microwave and then tossed the spoiled food from the refrigerator into the trash. The whole time he was reading her note, he could almost feel the shame in her words. For as long as he could remember, she had been the sole provider for their little family. Even when his brother was out hustling, it was still his mother who made sure they kept a roof over their heads. Domo knew that his mom busted her ass to make the best out of what little they had, and he wished she wouldn't get so down on herself when things didn't go right.

After chomping down the two double cheeseburgers his mom had left, Domo showered, got dressed, and prepared to hit the streets. He was going to grab some weed and a bottle of Hennessey. It was a little early to be sipping, but he was in good spirits. Before heading out, he peeled five hundred dollars off the money he had made with Vita and put it in his mother's stash spot, in the shoe box under her bed. He wanted to give her more, but it would be hard enough as it was to explain where he'd gotten the five hundred he'd left for her. He'd tell her he won it in a dice game. His mother frowned on him gambling, but it would be easier to get her to accept that rather than telling the truth: that he had earned it by helping to kill an apartment full of people.

As he was sitting on the couch, tying his shoe, he heard a familiar
Soooowooo
outside his living room window. He crept over, carefully peeling the curtain back, and saw Raheem standing on his stoop. Raheem usually didn't get out of bed before noon on weekends, so the fact that he was on his doorstep so early meant that he had either gotten into it with his stepdad again and gotten put out or had some neighborhood gossip that couldn't wait.

“Fuck is you doing out here so early?” Domo asked, bouncing down the steps of his building.

“Came to check my best friend and the hood's newest celebrity.” Raheem beamed. He had a lit blunt pinched between his lips. He took a deep pull and then passed it to Domo.

“What you talking about, Rah?” Domo accepted the blunt.

“C'mon, Domo. How long we known each other? Ain't no secrets between us, so you ain't gotta act like that. LA been telling everybody on the block how you held it down like a real gangster last night!” Raheem said proudly.

Domo choked on the smoke and damn near dropped the weed. “What? What did he say?”

Raheem snatched the blunt back. “Told me y'all hooked into a serious crew for a caper, and when shit went sour, you saved everybody's ass. He said when you backed out the hammer, all them niggas turned cold pussy and gave up their shit! Word to mine, y'all lucky I wasn't there, because nobody would've left out that bitch alive!” he boasted, shaping his fingers in the form of a gun.

Domo let out a small sigh of relief that LA had omitted the more sensitive parts of the story, but he was still angry. They had all agreed to keep what had gone down a secret, because of the harsh ramifications that could come of it. Murder was nothing to play with, and neither were Vita and her crew. The right words whispered into the wrong ears could land Domo in the morgue or in prison, and neither prospect appealed to him. Domo and LA were definitely going to have a conversation when he saw him.

“Yo, niggas been buzzing about that shit all night,” Raheem continued, exhaling a cloud of smoke. “Talking about that they didn't know you had it in you. Shit, I told them muthafuckas my right-hand man Domo is quiet, but he about that life; they just don't know you like I do.” He extended the blunt again.