Forever a Hustler's Wife (17 page)

CHAPTER 23

Bulletproof and Blessed

D
es sat in the pulpit of his newly renovated church, the Good Life Ministry, taking in the ever-growing crowd of pew viewers. He couldn’t help but smile as he wondered why it had taken him so long to come up with this move. It was by far the best idea he ever had, and he was glad to add it to his résumé as hustler. He bowed his head as though in prayer before winking at Yarni and stepping up to the pulpit of the abandoned building that he once thought of buying to turn into a nightclub. Ironic, since what he’d once intended to make the devil’s playground was now a house of the Lord.

“So we got our place of gathering up,” Des addressed his flock. “We’ve got a few dollars in the bank, and we’ve got people coming in here from the North, the South, the East, and the West. We’re having communion, and things are going great. But guess what? We’re not finished yet.” There were a few wondering moans among the crowd. “You see, it’s far easier to start something than to finish it. What if Noah never finished the ark?” Des asked his congregation. “What if he would have given up before God showed up?”

He looked over the people who were sitting in aluminum folding chairs and tried to read their reaction to his message. He caught a glimpse of the newly painted walls and smiled again. A week ago the old Piggly Wiggly sign had still been on the front of the building. Des had paid cash for the building out of his own pocket ten days ago and had donated the space to the ministry. The old supermarket had had a total face-lift. He had workers around the clock and had done what not many other churches had dared to do: build a place of worship in six days.

And on the seventh day they rested.

The floors had been stripped and the walls painted. He’d had stained-glass windows put in. Workers had built the stage on which Des was standing, and Des had ordered custom-made pews that had yet to arrive, but the people weren’t complaining about the folding chairs. In fact, they seemed really comfortable, like they were at home, kicked back in their favorite chairs. He briefly wondered if he could have kept the money for the pews for himself, but he knew in the end it would be money well spent.

Des paced around the pulpit. He had been so busy admiring his new space that he couldn’t recall what he’d just said, but obviously it was something to which the people could relate because they were up on their feet applauding.

“You can speak life or death into your life.” Des looked around and realized he had gotten off track when he noticed the confusion on the congregation’s faces. “I said you can speak life or death into your life. What I mean by that is, what you speaketh is what it shall be. If you roll out of bed and say, ‘Daggone it, this is going to be a messed-up day,’ then guess what? Prepare to shovel shit.”

The people began to react, once again applauding. “Tell it, brother,” one man yelled, striding up to the pulpit and shaking Des’s hand. Des nodded.

“However, if you sit up in the bed, thank the Lord for waking you up, and say, It’s going to be a great day, then you’ve made the first step to do just that. What I am saying to you, my people, is that no matter what folks say about our movement and our revolution, you have to be equipped, regardless of what your circumstances say. You gotta speak greatness into existence. Walk in the greatness.” Des came out from behind the pulpit and began to take huge, confident strides up the center aisle. Members of the congregation cheered him on. “When someone says, How are you doing? You say, I walk in greatness.” He took another step, and a couple of people lined up behind him, mimicking his words and his movements. “When someone asks how you doing, you say, Life couldn’t be greater.” He took another step. “When people ask, What are you doing, brother? Where are you going? You say, I’m going into deep waters, because big blessings don’t come in shallow territories.”

“Amen,” someone said, placing his hand on Des’s shoulder.

“I know that’s right,” a woman said, wiping tears from her eyes. “I walk in authority with the Lord!”

“That’s right, my sister.” Des shook her hand and agreed. “See, sometimes the blessings God has in store for us, the streams we’re fishing in won’t accommodate them. That’s why big fish don’t stay in shallow waters. Stay away from relationships with shallow folks doing shallow things talking shallow stuff.” He took another stride, moving closer to the door. “The closer you get to the prize, the farther away you move from where you started. Before you know it, you are swimming in deeper water, and you can’t see any land, and the ships you are passing are getting bigger and bigger, and the blessings…well they’re bigger and bigger, too, because you have launched into deeper water.”

“Preach, brother!” someone yelled.

“You take one step and then another, and soon you are in deeper waters,” Des said. He was now at the door of the church. “Remember, you can’t get deep blessings in shallow waters. Now let’s go out and be a blessing to everyone we meet,” Des said, opening the door.

The members were on fire as they left, and they let Des know just how much by dropping money in the collection baskets he had conveniently placed at the entranceway.

“Man, I can’t believe how much money we’ve been making.” Slim smiled as he and Des used their old drug money counter to total the church’s offerings and the earnings from their other various hustles.

“If I’d known a decade and a half ago that the word of God could be so prosperous, I would have never seen the inside of a prison,” Des said to Slim, a blunt bopping up and down on his lips as he talked. “Pass me that bottle of cognac.”

“Amen to that,” Slim cosigned, passing the Remy to Des.

Des laughed as he flipped through bundles of cash. “Yeah, I guess in some weird way, we owe it all to Nasir,” he said, thinking fondly of his nephew. It had only been a few months since he died, but Des had been so busy that he hadn’t had time really to miss him. He made a mental note to check on Lava.

“We’ve got to get all our street money cleaned up while the getting is good. The IRS ain’t going to buy that we made all this paper in the name of Jesus,” Des said, shaking off thoughts of his nephew. He took a stack of money and placed it in his safe.

“Got any ideas, Rev?” Slim asked, grabbing a few more stacks and putting them in the safe as well.

“My man Ahmeen has been trying to get me to go down to South America to holla at his brother Loo. That’s what he does down there,” Des said, thinking about his ex–cell mate.

“That’s a good look, if we can pull it off.”

“I’ll get at Ahmeen again to make sure everything is on the up and up. I’ma let Khadija know that I need to talk to him when he calls.” Des locked up the safe and grabbed the rest of the money to take to the bank as they prepared to leave.

As Slim and Des exited the church, reporters awaited them outside. Because the church had been attracting attention, there had been a lot of media coverage.

“Reverend Taylor, why are your deacons sitting in your church armed with guns?” a reporter asked, shifting her microphone so that Des could answer.

“Why does the president of the United States have armed guards following him everywhere he goes?” Des fired back.

She smiled. “But you’re not the president,” she reminded Des.

He looked around with a million-dollar smile. “No, not yet. All in God’s perfect timing,” he said.

“You are actually aspiring to be president of the United States?” she asked.

“Yes, we are in America, the land of the free, where you can be anything you want to be, right? What God has for me is for me, and no one can take that away, not even you, my sister.” He changed the subject since he could see the reporter was speechless. “Actually, to answer your original question, we don’t have metal detectors nor do we require the people who come in to be searched.” He looked into the camera. “Here at the Good Life Ministry, we welcome everyone, from anywhere and everywhere. With that being said, we would pray that everybody comes with a good heart, but knowing the things I know from serving ten years in prison for a crime that I was later pardoned for, I can’t take any risks. I’m not a gambling man anymore, which means I can’t roll the dice on the safety of my people.”

“Why do you wear a bulletproof vest under your robe?” she asked.

Des laughed to himself. He had mentioned this fact in his sermon one day, and obviously word had spread. It still amazed him that people actually listened to every word he spoke and quoted it like it was the gospel truth. He guessed that for many of them it was.

“I know that a lot of people are unhappy with all the great things we’re doing here, along with the unity and peace among my large congregation. I’ve been framed for two separate crimes that I didn’t commit. It’s evident that I’m a walking target due to the political work I’m doing in the community.” He kept bullshitting. “History has a tendency to repeat itself, and I wouldn’t want to be caught at a vulnerable time as so many who came before me have.” And with that final thought, Des decided to end the conversation. “Thank you and may God bless you.” He smiled and walked away, but the reporter was hot on his heels, almost leaving her cameraman behind.

By the time her camera guy had caught up, Des was getting into his Rolls-Royce.

“Is your car bulletproof?” the reporter asked.

He nodded his head to affirm it. “Bulletproofed and blessed by God.”

CHAPTER 24

The Blessing in Disguise

W
hen Yarni returned to her office, her assistant

Layla followed behind her. “There’s a Ms. Briggs here to see you,” Layla informed Yarni. “I asked her what it was in reference to, but she wouldn’t say.”

“Who is Ms. Briggs?” Yarni questioned.

“I don’t know. However, she’s been waiting over three hours, and she’s demanded to see you. She said she would wait all day if she had to, until her bus leaves at seven tonight.”

“Is she a client?” Yarni asked.

“No. She says it’s business, but close to your heart.”

“Maybe a potential new client, huh?”

“No, I asked so that I could get the preliminary info from her.”

Yarni shrugged. “Give me five minutes and then send her in.”

Yarni sat at her computer for a few minutes checking her e-mail. Layla announced the visitor, and Yarni stood up to greet her. “Yarnise Taylor,” she introduced herself while extending her hand.

“Malinda Briggs,” said the small light-skinned lady whom Layla had shown into Yarni’s office. She reached out to shake Yarni’s hand.

Yarni took in the woman’s appearance and hid her shock. The woman looked as though she had been sleeping in the same clothes for at least a week, and her black hair was tangled, matted, and hard, like an old wig from the seventies. Yarni desperately wanted to show the strange woman a mirror, wanting to believe a sensible person wouldn’t have come outside looking crazy on purpose.

“Have a seat?” Yarni offered, motioning to a chair in front of her desk.

The frail lady studied the diplomas and photos on Yarni’s wall. As she looked around, Yarni stared at her, wondering why the woman needed to see her so urgently.

“Wow, you’re a very smart sister,” Malinda said, impressed with Yarni’s accomplishments.

“That’s what they tell me,” Yarni said modestly.

“I wish I was smart, but I dropped out of school.” The woman continued to study the photos.

“You know, you can always go back. There are so many programs out there now,” Yarni said. She sat down, wishing the woman would hurry up and get to the point of her visit.

“It’s not that simple.” She glanced at Yarni, and Yarni used that as her cue to cease the small talk.

“So what can I help you with, Ms. Briggs?” Yarni asked, trying not to focus on the styling gel that had turned dark brown and was flaking off the woman’s black hair.

“Well, actually it’s not even what you can help me with. It’s what I can help you with, or even better, how we can help each other.” Malinda finally took a seat.

“What exactly are you talking about?” Yarni looked at her curiously.

“You know, one hand washes the other.”

Yarni didn’t have a clue as to where the peculiar-looking lady was going with this, but if the woman didn’t state her intentions quickly, Yarni would have to ask her to leave.
There aren’t enough hours in a day for this foolishness,
Yarni thought.

“Yes, Ms. Briggs, I’ve heard that saying, but can you be more specific?”

“It’s about your husband.”

“What about my husband?” Yarni asked, as alarms started going off in her head.

“It’s simple.” Ms. Briggs rolled up her sleeves, and Yarni noticed the track marks on her arms from years of shooting dope. “I can look out for him if he looks out for me.”

“Look out for you?”

“Yes, that’s what I said.”

Yarni was seconds away from pulling off her pumps and whipping the woman’s ass. “You coming up to my place of business questioning me about my husband? Sweetie, you got about ten seconds to state your business.” She rolled her neck, crossed her arms, and began tapping her foot as she looked at her watch, silently counting down the seconds before she beat the hell out of the woman.

Ms. Briggs was visibly shaken by Yarni’s sudden change in demeanor. “Look, you don’t understand. I’m not here to harm you or your husband. I’m here to help.”

“Then, you need to make me understand,” Yarni snapped, glaring at the woman. “Start talking, because my patience is wearing real thin.”

“I can understand that, but I don’t know where to start.”

Yarni could hear the D.C. dialect in her voice.

“From the beginning always works.” She tried her best to hide her annoyance and remain professional. Although she wanted to give the woman only a few more seconds of her time, her gut was telling her to hear the woman out. She sighed and sat back to hear what Ms. Briggs had to say.

“Well, first let me just say that I’m ninety-three days and twelve hours clean.”

“Congratulations,” Yarni said.

The woman took a deep breath. “Before I went into the program, I was at my lowest point. I didn’t have anywhere to shoot up anymore, so I was having to use the veins in my pussy. That’s how bad things had gotten for me. And I was doing any and everything to get my shot off,” she admitted.

“I can imagine, but what does this have to do with my husband?” Yarni said, holding her breath, hoping Des hadn’t been the one giving her the drugs. That thought went out of her mind quickly because Des hadn’t been on any small-time nickel-and-dime hustling since he was twelve years old.

The ninety-day clean ex–dope fiend stared off in space as she told Yarni, “One night, I had just finished sucking off one of my faithful clients in his car. Once I got out, I never left the alley. I was so anxious to get my works out and get high that I dropped my shit. I got down on my knees and was looking for it, and I began to cry when I couldn’t find it. I was desperate. I would’ve done anything to feed my hunger at that moment. I saw this woman when I was getting in the car but paid her no mind.” She looked up at Yarni. “She knew what was up; she asked me if I was sick. I told her yes, and she asked me if I wanted to make a thousand dollars.”

Tears formed in her eyes. “I asked her did I have to kill anyone.”

Yarni sat up in her chair to lean forward on her desk as her interest piqued.

“She said no, but close.”

“So what did you do?” Yarni asked, beginning to feel compassion for this stranger.

“She told me to say that I saw a man come out of a building at the end of the alley and take off a mask. Then she handed me this photo.” Ms. Briggs pulled out a photo tucked into the outside pocket of her fake Coach bag and handed it to Yarni. It was torn in half. It was a group prison photo containing eight inmates, and Des’s face was circled with a black Magic Marker. The hairs on Yarni’s neck stood up. “This is the man she said I needed to identify to the police.” She pointed to Des in the photo. “Handed me a hundred-dollar bill and told me once I identified him, then I would get two hundred fifty more, and then two hundred fifty more once I saw the sketch artist. Then the rest after I took the stand. Shoot, at that time, I ain’t have shit to lose, so why not? It was an offer that I couldn’t turn down.”

Yarni sat back, stunned, as she took in what this woman was telling her. She had always known that Des had been framed for the murder, but hearing this woman confirm it shocked her speechless. She got up from her desk and began pacing.

She couldn’t believe this runny-nose bitch was sitting in front of her confessing to being an accomplice to the false persecution of her man. Yarni felt like going in her drawer and pulling out her pistol. A quick vision of her being escorted out of Sunday-morning service in handcuffs, wearing her big-brimmed pastor’s-wife hat, came to mind, and she quickly decided to put aside her hustler’s wife mentality. After getting over the initial shock, she realized God had sent her a blessing in disguise.

“Do you know who the woman was?” Yarni asked.

The woman looked down at the floor and shook her head. “No,” she said softly. “Like I said, I had never seen her before that day, and she always manages to find me afterward.”

“She didn’t tell you how to contact her?” Yarni asked, stopping her pacing to swing around to look at the woman.

“No,” the woman repeated. “She’s been contacting me.”

“And you never thought to get contact information from her? How stupid can you be?” Yarni asked. “How can you just play with someone’s life like that? Do you know my husband is facing a long prison sentence because of you?”

The woman sitting before her was bent and broken, so Yarni reined in her emotions. “I’m sorry,” she said. “You did the right thing by coming to me. How did you find out about me, anyway?”

“I’ve been seeing your husband on television lately. I started to go to him, but I didn’t know if he would believe me. Then I saw this profile someone done on you, and they mentioned your law practice, so I thought I should talk to you.” Tears formed in her eyes. “I am so sorry for what I did, but you have to understand, the drugs had a hold on me….”

Yarni walked over and placed one hand on the woman’s shoulder. “I know,” she said. “I’m not mad at you. I really appreciate your coming to tell me what’s going on. You’ve helped me more than you know.”

Yarni began pacing and thinking again.

Who would possibly go through this much trouble, to such extremes to have Des set up? “Where is this woman now?” Yarni fired quick questions.

“I don’t know. Like I said, she always finds me. Even when I was in the program, she would pose as a family member to get messages to me.”

“What does she look like?” Yarni asked.

“You know, I was always high, so I really can’t give you a description.”

“I mean anything.” Yarni was all but begging her for something to help her locate the woman who was setting her husband up.

“Well, there is one thing,” she paused. “She had a tattoo on her right arm that I could never get out of my mind.”

“Tattoo? Of what?”

“A red heart with a knife going through it, and a black snake wrapped around the heart.” She shook her head and looked up at Yarni with fear in her eyes.

“Were there any words or a name?”

“Yes, I almost forgot. Her man’s name is on it.”

“What is it?”

“Under the tattoo it has: Treach E. Rouss’s Bitch.”

Yarni’s mind raced, but she knew she had never seen a tattoo like that before. She would have remembered something so odd. “Why now?” Yarni looked in the woman’s face and asked.

“Why now what?”

“Why would you come forward now?”

“Because I wasn’t in my right state of mind when I did that shit, and it’s been on my heart heavy, especially when I was in the program. Plus, I figured if someone would pay me a thousand dollars to say that a man done it, then someone would give me five thousand to clear the man who didn’t do it.”

Yarni got her emotions under control and put her lawyer hat back on. “Listen, don’t worry; we’re going to take care of you. I have to get my husband’s attorney on the phone, and then I’m going to record a statement from you.”

Ms. Briggs nodded. “How long is this going to take, because my bus leaves at seven.”

“Don’t worry about your bus,” Yarni said calmly. Little did Ms. Briggs know that if she tried to get up to leave the office, Yarni would have taken off her Prada belt and hog-tied her.

Yarni got Harowitz on the phone to tell him about the new evidence. Des’s attorney felt optimistic that this would put a serious chink in the prosecution’s case. With the primary witness recanting her testimony, it shouldn’t be hard to clear Des’s name and get the charges dropped.

After recording the statement and getting Malinda Briggs back off to D.C., Yarni put in a few calls to try to find out if there was any info on Treach E. Rouss. As she was making the calls, Harowitz called her back and said that in the beginning of the investigation, another witness had said that a woman had killed Richards. But since Des was only a few miles away when it happened, and since he had missed his appointment with the attorney, not to mention his past record and the new eyewitness, he had become the prime suspect.

Yarni said a prayer that night and was hopeful that Des’s unfortunate run-in with the law would soon be over and done with.