Dollar Bill (24 page)

“I'm having this baby. I can't have an abortion,” Mya said to Dollar as she sat back down on the bed. “It's against my religion.”

“Oh, and having sex unmarried isn't?” Dollar said. “Mya, you don't even know me. I'm just some dude you slept with.”

“And that's my fault. I'm the one who will have to explain that to the world. But why should I punish this unborn child?” Mya said, rubbing her belly. “I can't do it. I won't. Abortion is murder.”

“I don't even know why you're laying this on me,” Dollar said. “We were only together one time.”

“News flash; all it takes is one time.”

“And I'm supposed to believe the baby is mine?” Dollar asked.

“Don't go there,” Mya said. “Please don't go there.”

“Look, Mya, honey, sweetheart,” Dollar said in a condescending manner. “I've never wanted kids. I don't want any kids now, tomorrow, or yesterday. This baby, if it is mine, ain't gonna happen.”

“Dollar, I understand where you're coming from, but you don't have a choice at this point. I'm having this baby.”

“It's a no-win situation with bitches,” Dollar snapped. “When y'all get pregnant, the man doesn't have any choice over whether he wants to be a father.”

“The man has a choice before he lies down and sticks his dick in a woman,” Mya retaliated. “You made a choice not to wear a condom. That's where your choice started and ended.”

“I am so not hearing this. I am so not fucking hearing this,” Dollar said swinging his fist in the air. No way in hell was a kid in the plan.

“I'm sorry this happened. I didn't plan for it to happen,” Mya cried.

“Yeah, right,” Dollar said, disbelieving every word Mya uttered.

“Forget it. You don't have to be a part of this child's life. This child never has to know you exist. I'll tell him you were a casualty of war or something.” Mya paused. “I knew telling you was a mistake.”

“You're not paying attention, Mya,” Dollar said. “This baby is not going to happen. No seed of mine is going to be born. You feel me?”

“I'm sorry, but you can't tell me what to do with my body. The baby didn't get to choose whether it wanted to be conceived. It's not fair to take the baby's choice of life away.”

“That's all good, but I believe in pro-choice,” Dollar said. “Abortion isn't always bad depending on the circumstance. And in this circumstance, where the father doesn't want the baby or the mother, abortion is the answer.”

“I'm not asking you to want me, Dollar. I believe in pro-choice too, and my choice is to have this baby. Abortion might be the answer for other women, but not me. I won't have that on my conscience.”

By this time, Dollar was heated. His conversation with Mya wasn't going anywhere. This dumbass white girl was determined to have this baby. He didn't want it to get to this point, but it was time for him to pull out his wild card.

“Well, since you believe in pro-choice,” Dollar said as he flipped through his wallet, “here's five hundred dollars. Bitch, it's your life or the baby's. You make the choice.” Dollar threw the money at Mya who had the fear of death in her eyes. She stood trembling as she didn't mistake Dollar's words as an idle threat.

Dollar walked up on Mya slowly as he stared her down. “Here's another two hundred,” Dollar said, throwing the money at Mya. “This is for the couple of days of work you might have to miss while you recuperate after the procedure.” Dollar kissed Mya on the forehead then left her apartment.

A baby,
Dollar thought as he stood outside of Mya's closed door. Maybe a li'l Dollar Bill wouldn't be so bad. But what did he have to offer a kid? What could he teach a kid? How to hustle? That's about the only thing his old man had taught him. Maybe things would be different between him and his kid though.

Dollar contemplated walking back into Mya's apartment and talking things out, maybe hear her out. He was so torn at that point. The fate of another human being's life was in his hands. Dollar turned around and put his hand on the doorknob to turn it. Mya, who was standing on the opposite side of the door contemplating going after Dollar, watched the knob turn. Maybe she wouldn't have to go after Dollar after all. Maybe he had changed his mind on his own.

Just before pushing the door open, Dollar said to himself, “I can't curse my baby. I can't bring no child into this ghetto-ass shit. Naw, it's better off dead.”

Mya could hear Dollar's footsteps walk away. She leaned up against the door and slid down to the floor. Her wailing filled the apartment. She knew what she had to do.

Later on that night Dollar was tossing and turning as sweat dripped from his body. He opened his eyes, which weren't asleep, just closed, and looked at the clock. It was two o'clock in the morning.

On top of all the female drama Dollar had been dealing with, concerns about Ral had been eating at him as well. The situation with Ral just didn't feel right at all anymore. Dollar remembered Romeo once telling him that if shit don't feel right, then it ain't right.

But this was Ral, not some new jack on the street. This was the same comrade Dollar traded in eight years of his life for. This was the same comrade he had invested so much time in saving. This was his best friend, Ralphie Boy from the playground.

Dollar felt like someone had put a dinner plate covered with delicious foods in front of him right after he had eaten a large pizza. The dilemma between throwing the food out or just eating it so that it didn't go to waste was tormenting Dollar's soul.

I should have listened to Tommy in the first place,
Dollar lay in bed thinking. Ral was a junkie. A junkie wasn't any good to anybody. He'd tried to fix him. He'd done his part, hadn't he? Dollar had given Ral a chance. It was only a matter of time before Ral messed up and took Tommy and Dollar with him.

Dollar, Ral, and Tommy sat in the living room of Ral's crib. Since Dollar and Tommy's scare with the po-po at Jimmy's Coney Island, they hadn't met back up there since. Dollar suggested they meet at Ral's until they decided on a new location to discuss dealings. Ral was clueless to the fact that Dollar and Tommy had no intentions on ever meeting with him again.

“Damn,” Ral said. “I didn't even think you remembered my birthday.”

“How could we forget? We're family,” Tommy said. She nodded to the envelope she'd just handed Ral. “That's from Dollar and me.”

Ral opened the envelope and pulled out another piece of paper. It was a gift certificate for a suite at the W in downtown Chicago. “Man, for real?” Ral said with excitement. “This is what I'm talking about.”

“I'm glad you like it,” Dollar said.

“A suite at one of the dopest overnighters in the city, shiiitt. There's only one other thing that could top that,” Ral said, raising his eyebrows.

“You think I ain't on top of that?” Dollar winked at Ral. “I knew you'd get lonely up in a big ol' place like that so I arranged for you to have a little company.”

“See, that's why you my mafucka,” Ral said, beating on his chest with one hand while pretending to wipe away invisible tears from his eyes with the other.

“That's all men think about,” Tommy said.

“And good thing we do or else you wouldn't have a job,” Ral said. “Y'all excuse me. I have to go to the bathroom.” Ral got up from the couch and went into the bathroom.

Tommy waited until she heard the bathroom door close before she spoke. “I knew one of the two would be Ral's downfall,” Tommy said to Dollar. “Pussy or drugs.”

“Yeah, but who ever thought it would be both?”

 

 

Tommy had already bumped her head twice on the pole. She even stumbled and almost fell off the stage. “Wine.” The DJ chuckled. “I think you done had a little too much of your name.” He shouted out to the bartender. “Tiwana, just give that ho Shirley Temples the rest of the night.” The patrons in the Chocolate Factory laughed along with the DJ as Tommy exited the stage and went and sat next to Dollar in a corner booth.

“You okay?” Dollar asked a nervous Tommy.

“Hell no. Are you?” Tommy replied. “He's our boy, D. Maybe we should have just talked to him.”

“Talk is cheap, Tommy. Unless you up in a piece like this, talk is free and gets you nowhere.”

“Look, I can't think straight. I can't be up in here, not tonight. I'm gon' go tell Shay I need to go home.” Tommy excused herself and headed toward Shay's office.

Dollar sat at the table looking at his watch, knowing that in a few minutes, like two-day-old milk, Ral would be expired.

“Hey, Dollar, right?” some cat said as he strolled up to Dollar.

Dollar put his hand on his chin and eyeballed this cat up and down. He didn't recognize this fool whose pants were about five sizes too big. “Who wants to know?” Dollar said.

“Oh, it ain't like that, partna. I'm Kill Dog, ya dude Ral's boy. I've seen you with him a couple of times.” Kill Dog put out his hand to shake Dollar's. Dollar reluctantly did so.

“Ral talks about you twenty-four/seven. It's good to meet you up close and personal. I'd expect to see some gleaming halo over your head, a beaming light behind you like you Jesus or some shit.” Kill Dog laughed.

“Oh, yeah?” Dollar lightweight laughed.

“Word. Ral's my boy, with his crazy ass. That wigga would take candy from a baby and sell it to its mother if he had to. He's good peoples though. Always got a mafucka's back.”

Kill Dogs words were starting to eat away at Dollar's conscience. They only reminded Dollar of how loyal Ral was and had always been. But people changed. The game changed people.

“Me and my girl had got into it and Ral was there to have my back,” Kill Dog continued. “Ma had just caught me getting down with a Chiquita from 'round the way.”

As Kill Dog went on and on, Dollar saw firsthand how niggaz get to running their mouth off in the spot. This cat was telling all of his business.

“Ral's ass shows up out of nowhere with a mink. I shut my ho up with that coat. I ain't even have the money on the spot to give Ral but he looked out. As a matter of fact I just paid his ass a couple three weeks ago. I hit him up with an extra two grand. Hell, ma is the mother of my four kids. She special like that. Ral saved my ass.”

“Hold up,” Dollar stopped Kill Dog before he could continue gabbing. “Ral sold you a coat?”

“Yeah, a mink,” Kill Dog said. “He was gon' bring my dude Rob from LA up in here not too long ago to try to cop one. He said dude's who sells them sister works up in here and shit, but them boys had drove up to Chi-Town and put in work and wasn't trying to hang out. But they said the next time they roll through they gon' check out this spot. I told them niggaz they didn't know what they were missing. Don't nobody roll through the interstate without jumpin' off at the Chocolate Factory.”

Dollar had left Kill Dog standing there talking to himself. One of the biggest mistakes Dollar could ever make was about to go down and he had to stop it.

“Nigga, what the fuck you doing in here?” a dancer shouted as Dollar busted into the dressing room.

“T, it's a mistake. We gotta stop that shit!” Dollar shouted to Tommy.

“Whoa, hold up,” Tommy said, confused. “What's going on?”

“Are you crazy busting up in here like that?” Bear asked Dollar as he snatched him up.

“Man, get your motherfuckin' hands off of me,” Dollar said, going for his piece.

“Wait!” Tommy yelled. “Come on, Dollar. What's wrong?” Tommy said as she peeled Bear's hands off of Dollar.

Dollar rambled on and on to Tommy about Ral having money because he'd sold the mink coat to Kill Dog. He told her about why them LA niggaz hadn't shown up at the club that night they were supposed to rob him in the parking lot. Tommy wasn't fully comprehending everything. All she knew is that a big mistake had been made. It was like a ghetto version of the sitcom
Three's Company.
All the wrong conclusions had been jumped to.

“Call Storm's pager,” Tommy shouted as she began to tremble.

Dollar searched his person for his cell phone and it was nowhere on him. “Fuck, I must have left my phone in the car.”

Dollar and Tommy ran out to Dollar's truck to retrieve his phone. Dollar dug through his pockets and glove box for Storm's number.

“Dammit, D, hurry the fuck up,” Tommy said. By this time, she was shaking and tears were running down her face.

“I can't find it,” Dollar said.

“Your cell phone; is it stored in your cell phone? Numbers called, received calls or something?” Tommy screamed.

“Yeah, yeah,” Dollar said. He felt around under the seat until he located his cell phone. “Found it.” He sat down in the driver seat and fumbled through the address book, but couldn't recall what name he had stored the number in as. “Fuck,” Dollar said. “It's not under Storm.”

“Try M& M,” Tommy suggested, which Dollar did.

“It's not under that either.”

“Hit hoes. You called them hit hoes. Try that.”

Just as Tommy suggested, the phone number was stored under Hit Hoes. Dollar hit the quick dial button. The phone rang one time; no answer. The phone rang two times; no answer. The phone rang three times; no answer. The phone rang four times.

“Hello,” a seductive voice answered.

“Storm,” Dollar shouted.

“No, this is Thunder. Just a moment and I'll get her,” Thunder said.

“No, wait a minute,” Dollar shouted, but Thunder had already put down the phone. Dollar could hear his heartbeat as he waited on the phone.

“This is Storm,” she said into the receiver upon picking up the phone.

“Baby girl, this is Dollar,” he said.

“Hey, poppa, what's—”

“Have you done that shit yet?” Dollar said, cutting Storm off.

“My feelings are hurt that you doubted my skills,” Storm said. “Don't worry. That black suit won't go to waste. It's done.”

Dollar removed the phone from his ear. He dropped his head and closed his eyes.

“No, oh no,” Tommy whimpered.

Dollar looked over at Tommy and D'ed up. He stuck out his chest, took a deep breath, and swallowed. He then put the phone back to his ear.

“You still there?” Storm asked.

“Yeah, I'm here,” Dollar replied.

“Yeah, he's gone off that ex. Thunder and me 'bout to finish this shit off. I told you that I would hit you up when the deed was done, so let me do my thang and I'll call you back when—”

“Whoa,” Dollar interrupted. “You mean he's not gone
gone?
”

“Didn't I say not to worry? My girl and me gonna handle this. We ain't amateurs,” Storm said.

“No, no,” Dollar said. “There's been a change in plans.”

Storm paused. “Meaning what?” Storm huffed.

“Meaning I don't need M&M anymore,” Dollar said.

There was silence on the phone. Dollar could hear some shuffling and could tell Storm must have been changing to a location where she could speak more freely.

“Look, muthafucka,” Storm said. “I done already sucked Opey's little-ass dick, so if you thinking you getting this money back then you got another think coming.”

“Calm down, Pocahontas,” Dollar said. “You keep that shit and good looking out. We cool?”

“Hell yeah, we cool. We always gon' be cool as long as you don't try to fuck up my money. My daughter's tuition was due, so your shit was already spent.”

“I hear you and it's cool, ma. Like I already said, you keep that shit. But since you are keeping it, why don't you go ahead and see to it that my man has a happy birthday after all. You feel me?” Dollar said.

“That's not a problem,” Storm said.

“All right then, later.”

“Hey, Dollar,” Storm said before ending the call.

“Yeah!”

“It was a pleasure doing business with you.”

Delighted that Dollar was able to stop Storm from finishing Ral off, he replied, “The pleasure was all mine.”

Dollar hung up his cell phone, took a deep breath, and planted his head against his steering wheel.

“So, it's all good?” Tommy asked as Dollar sat hunched over the steering wheel.

“If you hadn't figured out what Storm's fucking number was stored under, then I don't know,” Dollar said, becoming emotional. “I don't know what would have happened.”

“Jesus.” Tommy sighed. “I knew Ral wasn't no rat. I knew it.”

Dollar looked over at Tommy who was in a cold sweat. Dollar put his hand on her knee and said, “You did it again.”

“What?” Tommy said.

“You saved Ral. Once again, Tommy Gun to the rescue.”