Eviction Notice (4 page)

CHAPTER 5

Francine, known to
her friends as Frankie, pushed open the exit doors of Macy’s and stepped out into the warm morning air. She was dressed in a loose-fitting business suit and lightweight Burberry raincoat that matched her heels and sunglasses. She had shopping bags in both hands, which made her stumble a bit, but she still made good time getting as far away from Macy’s as she could. She was thinking about hopping a cab, but with the way traffic was she would probably make better time on the subway. After burning down the stores on Thirty-fourth Street all morning, she was anxious to get out of Dodge.

Frankie was a jack-of-all-trades, but her most lucrative source of income was boosting. It was a skill she had acquired at a young age from her now-estranged father. The old con would take Frankie to all the high-end fashion stores and let her explore all the aisles while he plied his trade. Frankie loved the outings and developed an early love for fashion thanks to her father, but not until she was older would she come to realize his motives for taking her. Security in the stores was less likely to watch a dad out shopping with his kid, so Frankie made the perfect front while he relieved them of their goods.

The art of theft was the only thing Frankie’s father had ever given her, and she cherished and perfected her gift. Frankie could make it in and out of a clothing store in less than ninety seconds with hundreds of dollars’ worth of merchandise without anyone even realizing she had been there. She was a master thief and it made her very popular in her hood. If you wanted the latest in designer wear, you went to Frankie to fill your order; there was nothing she couldn’t steal. She had even pulled off a few armed robberies when the price was right, but there was less risk and less time in boosting so she mainly kept it to that.

A police car bent the corner, causing Frankie to freeze. A lump formed in her throat when the officer on the passenger side looked up at her and studied her for a moment. A part of her wanted to bolt, but she played it cool and just smiled. The officer smiled, then tapped his partner and said something. From the way both of the men smiled, she could only imagine what kind of chauvinistic statement had passed between them. The driver’s attention was drawn to the squawking police radio and after listening for a few seconds they threw on their lights and sped off.

“Jesus,” Frankie said, sighing when she finally released the breath she was holding. Clutching her bag a little tighter, she made hurried steps toward the train station. Just as Frankie neared her destination she spotted an SUV slowing down to keep in step with her.

“Hey, baby, you need some help carrying those bags?” one of the vehicle’s occupants called to her. Frankie kept walking as if she didn’t hear him. “Come on, sweetie, don’t act like that. I don’t bite unless you want me to.” Seeing that Frankie still wasn’t receptive to his advances, he switched his tone. “Well fuck you then, bitch!”

Not able to stomach the disrespect, Frankie spun on him angrily. “Ya mama’s a bitch, muthafucka!” she spat. She was looking for a bottle or something to throw at the SUV when she realized that she knew the vehicle and the young man hanging out the window disrespecting her. “Levi?”

Levi’s squinted from behind his glasses. “Frankie, is that you? Oh shit. Hap, that’s Frankie.”

Happy leaned across Levi and looked out the window. “Damn, that is Frankie. What’s up, li’l mama?”

“Ain’t nothing. Where y’all headed?” Frankie approached the vehicle.

“Shit, we about to roll uptown. Where are you coming from?” Levi asked, looking at all the bags. “As a matter of fact, I already know. What you got, ma?”

“If y’all give me a ride uptown I’ll let y’all get first dibs,” she offered.

“Shit, hop in.” Happy popped the locks. Frankie tossed her bags in the backseat and climbed in beside them. “Man, I didn’t even recognize you with that weave in ya head,” Happy said, admiring Frankie through the rearview mirror.

“Negro, please, you know I don’t do no weaves.” Frankie pulled the wig off and exposed her shoulder-length black hair beneath, which was neatly cornrowed going to the back. With the wig gone you could see Frankie’s face clearly. Cunning brown eyes blended almost perfectly with her cinnamon-brown skin. “I gotta keep ’em guessing so I try to change up my look when I go to certain spots. I just came up on some nice Nautica cardigan sweaters that’ll be real wavy with some Nike boots in the winter,” Frankie told them, while rummaging around in the bag. She came up with one of the items in question and held it out for them to inspect. “Hap, I don’t know if I got your size but I’m picking up some Air Max tomorrow and I’ll hold a pair for you if you want.”

“That’ll work, baby girl,” Happy told her.

Levi reached out to touch the sweater, but Frankie snatched it back. “Nigga, you better move away from my merchandise with that cigarette!”

“Stop acting like that, Frankie.”

“I ain’t acting like nothing, but this is how I eat and a burnt piece ain’t no good to me. Now if you’re buying it then you can flick as many ashes on it as you like,” she said seriously.

“You know Levi ain’t buying shit unless it’s pussy,” Happy mocked.

“Then I ain’t got nothing for him,” Frankie said.

“Hap, you gonna cut ya shit, my dude, because I ain’t the only one with skeletons,” Levi warned. “Man, fuck all that. Frankie, I’ll take the sweater. How much?”

“For you … give me fifty cash and it’s a done deal.”

“Fifty?” Levi’s voice went up an octave. “How you gonna charge me fifty dollars and we live in the same hood?”

“That’s the reason I’m charging you fifty, instead of what I’m hitting everybody else. When I shoot to the Bronx with these later on, I’m not accepting anything less than seventy-five,” Frankie told him.

“Y’all muthafuckas be killing me,” Levi mumbled while digging around in his pocket. He peeled off fifty dollars and handed them to Frankie.

“You know you love me, Levi.” She kissed him on the cheek and tucked the money into her bra.

“I guess Levi gets all the love, huh?” Happy said sarcastically.

“I got love for all my niggaz, Hap. Don’t act like that.” Frankie draped her arms around him, bringing a smile to his lips. “As a matter of fact, I was gonna go to the face on this but I’m about to share my weed with y’all. Let’s stop at one of these stores and get a couple of Dutches so we can burn on the way to the block.”

“What you working with, Frankie?” Levi asked.

“Some shit I copped in Jerz called White Rhino.”

“They ain’t got no good weed in Jersey,” Happy added his two cents.

“I used to feel the same way, until I discovered where I had to get some bomb shit. I’m telling you, my nigga, this shit is that fire.”

“We’ll see,” Levi said mockingly. They pulled up at a small newsstand and Levi got out to get two Dutch Masters and two Snickers bars. He placed them on the tiny wooden counter and asked, “How much?”

“For you, seven fifty, my friend,” the young Middle Eastern man behind the counter said with a smile.

“Seven fifty?” Levi reeled back, disgusted. “Fam, how much is your candy?”

“One fifty each.”

Levi looked at his purchases and did the math in his head. “So you mean to tell me y’all want two twenty-five for a Dutch? Homeboy, what kinda shit is that? My man, a Dutch is a dollar twenty-five uptown.”

“Then you should go uptown and buy. Down here the Dutch Masters are two twenty-five.”

“This is a fucking rip-off,” Levi mumbled and tossed a wad of crumpled bills at the man.

“Have a nice day!”

“Fuck you,” Levi cursed over his shoulder and climbed back into the truck, slamming the door.

“Why you gotta do my door like that, man? Niggaz ain’t used to nothing,” Happy said and pulled off from the curb.

“Yo, play this CD for me.” Frankie handed a blank disk to Happy.

“What the fuck is this?” Happy asked.

Frankie shrugged. “I don’t know, some kid was selling these in downtown Newark when I was out there boosting yesterday. He looked like he was really on his grind so I decided to support him.”

Happy shook his head. “A thief with a heart. I wonder what they’ll come up with next.”

“Shut up and play the CD.” Frankie tossed a balled-up napkin at him.

“You keep tossing shit in my ride and you’re gonna pay to get it cleaned,” Happy threatened and put the CD in. Surprisingly, the music was pretty good. “This is kinda tight. What did you say this kid’s name was?”

“Lord something-or-other,” Frankie tried to recall.

“Hold up, was it Lord Scientific?” Levi asked.

“Yeah, that was it. He had a street team out there that was twenty deep and they were flooding both sides of the strip with the CDs and posters. You’ve heard of him?”

“Yeah, I seen the kid on 106th and Park one day doing the freestyle battle thing. He ate this kid from the Bronx so bad that I felt like crying for him. But Lord Scientific got disqualified because he cursed.”

“That’s some shady shit,” Happy said.

“Yeah it was. I dunno, they say the kid is a hot item these days, with all the top labels checking him out. I heard even Don B. wanted to sign him to Big Dawg.”

“Dear God, I hope he doesn’t,” Frankie said.

Happy looked at her. “And why the hell not? Them boys over there getting heavy paper.”

“You mean
Don B
. is getting heavy paper,” Levi corrected him. “C’mon, Hap, I know you’re illiterate and all, but at least once per year Big Dawg’s name comes up in newspapers and magazines in connection with tragedy. Nobody that has signed to that label his lived long enough to enjoy their success. That whole place is jinxed.”

“Don B. is the damn devil and one day he’s gonna get what he deserves.” Frankie sealed the ends of the blunt she was rolling. “Now enough talk about Satan and his little helpers, let’s get fried!”

As she had promised them, the White Rhino was the truth and it quickly turned the inside of the whip into a beautiful bubble of chronic. Frankie was finally able to breathe easy in the comfort of truck and out of Midtown with her haul for the day. Half the stuff she had was sold already, and the other half she knew she’d get off over the next few days. The lick came right on time because she and her roommates were already two weeks back on their rent. She could relax now, knowing that she had her end of it. Frankie leaned back and made herself comfortable, losing herself in Lord Scientific’s rant coming through the speakers and the nothingness of her buzz.

CHAPTER 6

By midafternoon the
projects were jumping. Grills were set up, card and dice games were going on, and there seemed to be kids everywhere. Everyone was taking advantage of the warm weather. Sahara sat on the bench, fumbling with her BlackBerry and killing time while she waited for her on-again off-again boo, King. He and his partner, Lakim, were both topless and sweating like slaves working overtime as they battled to see who could do the most push-ups. To the victor went an ounce of Kush, courtesy of the loser, so neither of them wanted to lose. Even though both men had been home for a while they still carried themselves like they were on the inside.

Sahara had become a regular fixture in King James’s hood. She had an apartment in the Douglass projects that she shared with her roommates, but she been spending quite a bit of time in the Grant projects since she’d started messing with King. The Grant projects were his
court,
as he liked to call it. King James had come home from prison on some real brolic shit and put the smash down on the hood he’d grown up in. King hadn’t hit the big time yet, but he was fast on his way and everybody knew it. You either feared King James or you loved him, but either way you respected him.

Sahara’s social standing had also gone up a notch or two since she’d started getting noticed around town with the young goon. Chicks hated on her and dudes wanted her. Cats knew that King indulged only in the best, so for him to be with her meant that she was special. King helped boost her value, but it wasn’t like Sahara had ever been a slouch. She stood nearly six feet, with a stripper’s body, jet-black hair, and skin almost as dark. She was born in Africa but had spent enough time in the United States to catch on to the law of the land, which was
trap or die
. Sahara was about her business, so when King James had opened himself up for her to dig her claws into him, she made sure she dug deep.

With all the shit talking King and Lakim did between sets, it seemed like it was taking forever to determine a winner, and Sahara was getting impatient. “Damn, how much longer y’all gonna be at it?” Sahara asked with an attitude.

“Until I drop or his bony-ass arms break,” King capped, flexing the muscles in his chest. Across his chest were tatted the words
Peace God
in a fancy scroll. A heavy gold medallion hung from this thick neck, bearing the crescent moon and a diamond-filled number 7. It was not only a magnificent piece, but a reminder to all who knew its history as to how much of a beast the young man was.

Lakim sucked his gold teeth. “Sun, you bugging. I used to get money in the yard.” Lakim flexed his biceps. He was wider than King, but had a potbelly and stood almost a foot shorter. Lakim had a Napoleon complex and stayed caught up in drama, but he would lay down his life for King James.

“Well, I’m about to show you whose yard this is,” King told him before dropping down to do another set of fifty push-ups.

“Yo, speaking of the yard, shit is getting crazy on the other side of town,” Lakim said as he planted his hands to do his own set of push-ups. “The li’l nigga we gave that work to got shot.”

King James immediately stopped his push-ups and stood to his full height. “Somebody killed one of our people?”

“Nah, sun ain’t dead, but he’s gonna probably walk with a limp for the rest of his life,” Lakim explained.

“What about the nigga who shot him?”

“I heard it was one of Shai Clark’s people. Sun came through on some state-property shit and told them li’l dudes that if they wasn’t getting money for Shai, they couldn’t eat in Harlem.”

King James frowned at the news. He knew the Clarks by reputation, but had only actually met Tommy. The two had spoken briefly when King James had first arrived on Rikers Island and Tommy was coming through on a gun charge. Though Tommy Gunz was wild as hell, he was no bully. “Sun, I can’t believe that the Clark family is out here on some guerilla shit. I was just a shorty when Poppa was boss and Tommy was running the streets. They definitely had this whole shit in the stranglehold, but they never tried to stop a nigga from getting money as long as they were going about it correctly.”

Lakim laughed. “Dawg, I know you’ve been gone for a while, but Poppa dead and Tommy Gunz ain’t even on the radar no more. Shai is running shit, and he ain’t built like his bloodline. That nigga ain’t concerned with the streets; his mind is on that fucking casino.”

“Well then, maybe we need to holla at him and see about getting his mind right,” King said seriously.

Lakim smiled. “I had a feeling you would say that so I put one of my li’l homegirls on the job. Word has it that him and some of his peoples are supposed to be in Newark tonight for the grand opening of this spot called Brick City. Shai and the owner are cool, so the king of Harlem is supposed to be coming out to show his support.”

King laughed. “My nigga, I keep telling y’all there’s only room for one king in Harlem. Holla at the homies and tell them to be ready. I wanna have a talk with this Shai nigga and see where his head is at.”

By then Sahara was too through with King, Lakim, and their bullshit and was about ready to leave them to it, but she remembered that King was supposed to lay some bread on her. As usual, King had made her wait for the money, thinking that she was just going to run through it on foolishness like she normally did, and he was half correct. A good chunk of the money was going on a pair of boots that she had seen in this store on Fifth Avenue, but she also had moves to make before the party the following night.

King had been home for more than two years and hadn’t had a birthday party since the year before he started his bid, and back then he was still a teenager. His sister and a few of his comrades had decided to throw him a surprise party for his birthday, and Sahara immediately found a way to earn some points with the family by volunteering to coordinate it. Granted, the task took more work than Sahara had anticipated, but it allowed her a chance to get in good with the few people King held dear. Sahara wouldn’t have gone as far as to say that she was in love with King James, but there was a deep connection between them. He was a man with stars in his eyes and no fear in his heart, so it only made sense to bet on him.

Sahara dug into her purse for a cigarette and realized that she was out. “I’ll be right back, I’m going to the store,” she called to King and got off the bench, headed for the store. Sahara scurried across the big street to the other side of Broadway. Instead of going into the store and paying almost twelve dollars for a pack of cigarettes, she went two doors down and paid the old Spanish man eight. As she turned around to go back across the street, she spotted a familiar face coming her way on a bike.

“What it do, ma?” Ashanti asked, bringing the bike to a stop in Sahara’s path. He had grown a bit, but he was still the same kid with the high-pitched voice and criminal nature. Ashanti was off the chain, but he was a cool dude.

“Chilling. What’s good with you?” Sahara gave him a light hug. “Where you been hiding at? I haven’t seen you around here like that in a minute.”

“I ain’t never hiding, I’ve just been busy. You know how that goes.”

“Fo sho. So what brings you to these parts?”

Ashanti shrugged and raised his shirt so that she could see the nine tucked into his sweatpants. “Trying to see what’s for dinner, ya heard?”

“Ashanti, you’re still wild as hell. What’s up with the rest of ya peeps?”

“Niggaz is out and about doing them. Ima go check Brasco later on, you should come through and kick it.” He smiled at her devilishly.

“Stop it five.” She put her palm in his face playfully. “I know how y’all niggaz do and I ain’t about to have King kill
all
of us.”

“Damn, you still fucking wit the god?”

“Off and on, you know how that goes. Ain’t too many real niggaz left, so when you get one you hold on to him.”

“You ain’t never lied,” Ashanti agreed.

“Speaking of real niggaz, any word?” she asked. When she saw his face darken she regretted the question, as everyone knew that the disappearance of Animal was a sensitive subject for him.

Ashanti looked at the ground for a few seconds before answering. “Nah, still not a peep. But anyway, let me get up outta here. Tell my nigga King I said
what’s good
.” He peddled off on his bike.

Sahara made her way back across the street and spotted a girl named Yvonne that she’d been exchanging dirty looks with over the last month or so, and some of her friends. King had been fucking Yvonne but when he started checking for Sahara he backed up off Yvonne. Instead of her taking up her issue with King, she chose to direct her shade at Sahara. The girls watched Sahara and Sahara watched them as they passed one another. Yvonne rolled her eyes and Sahara laughed, which caused Yvonne to stop.

“Somebody tell a joke that I missed?” Yvonne asked Sahara.

“Nah, it’s an inside joke. You probably still wouldn’t get it if I told you.” Sahara snickered.

“Shorty, you talking real slick to be so far from home,” Yvonne told her.

“Baby, I’m comfortable wherever I stomp,” Sahara said defiantly.

“Wow, I know you ain’t gonna let her talk to you like that,” one of Yvonne’s friends instigated.

Yvonne took the bait and stepped up. “Yo, word to mine, I’m tired of you li’l bitches from downtown coming up here talking fly and trying to fuck other bitches’ men.” Yvonne put her hands on Sahara’s face. As soon as her finger made contact with Sahara’s forehead, Sahara swung on her.

Sahara had a very lean build, but the hate she already had for Yvonne added to her strength and the punch landed with an impact of someone twice her size. Yvonne staggered back and Sahara closed in. One of Yvonne’s friends tried to trip Sahara, but she peeped the move and stepped over her outstretched foot, just before she popped her in the mouth. By then all Yvonne’s friends had joined in the brawl, and Sahara did the best she could to hold them off.

“Fuck is going on over here?” King stepped into the center of the melee, trying to separate the girls. He was finally able to pull Sahara free and get between her and Yvonne’s crew. “Yo, what the fuck is good with y’all?”

“King, you better tell your li’l whore something, because the next time she tries to run up on me, I’m gonna kill her!” Yvonne shouted. She tried to dip around King to get to Sahara, but he grabbed her around the waist and held her.

“That’s enough … and that shit goes for the both of you!” King barked, and the hostility in his voice seemed to calm both the girls down. It looked like King was finally getting a handle on the situation, but things went from bad to worse.

“Fuck is you doing?” Lamar called from the lobby entrance of 3150. He was short with a bald head and muscles that looked like they would rip through his skin at any moment. Lamar was Yvonne’s oldest brother, the one you never got to see in the wintertime because he was always in jail.

“Lamar, chill. It ain’t what it looks like, my nigga,” King tried to explain.

“Fuck what it look like, I see you over here grabbing on my sister like you her daddy or something,” Lamar amped himself up.

“Sun, chill the fuck out. We was just breaking up the fight,” Lakim said.

“What, fuck is you to get loud with me?” Lamar peeled off his shirt and flexed his hulking, tatted chest. “Y’all li’l young-ass niggaz think you’re hot shit out here, but you better learn to respect the ones who made this possible.” He turned to King. “And I don’t give a fuck how much time you did, nigga. You still li’l James to me, and that’s the only reason I didn’t hand you your head when I seen you out here trying to
handle
my sister!”

That was the last straw.

King moved like a blur, closing the distance between him and Lamar in less than a second. Lamar tried to raise his hands but by the time he got them up, King had already blasted him in the jaw twice. “You li’l bitch-ass nigga, trying to come at me like you built.” King slapped him viciously across the mouth, drawing blood. He followed up with a nasty hook to the gut, doubling Lamar over. “Sun, gimmie the hammer so I can push this faggot,” King ordered Lakim.

“Chill, God, it’s mad people out here,” Lakim warned.

“I don’t give a fuck.” King smacked Lamar again, but held him by the back of the head to keep him from flipping over the gate.

“King, please don’t kill my brother.” Yvonne dramatically threw herself at King.

“Bitch, get off me,” he snarled while trying to detach her pleading arms from around his neck. The whole thing had become comical.

It didn’t take long for a crowd to gather around the spectacle and of course that led to someone’s calling the police. The way King was abusing Lamar was not only embarrassing, it was sad. As the cops were making their way to the brawl, Sahara was making her way away from it. Seeing another grown man get beat like that was more than Sahara could bear. She caught a taxi at the curb and gave the driver her address. Her hair was a mess from the girls pulling it and her outfit was ruined, but outside of that and a few nicks and scratches she was good. The fact that it had been three-against-one and they couldn’t do much to her brought Sahara a little joy. Even three-against-one they couldn’t see her, and this brought Sahara a little joy. The last thing she saw as they were pulling away were the cops struggling to get King off Lamar.