Harlem Girl Lost (28 page)

“Ms. Jones, the government has a strong case against Mr. Haze. They found one hundred forty-four grams of heroin along with cash and guns in his residence. One of the guns, I might I add, was traced back through the FBI system to several murders, including the massacre of an entire family over a year ago.”

Silver refused to believe it. “No, that's not true. Chance never kept drugs in the house! He was set up!”

Morgenstern had heard it all before. “Maybe, maybe not. The issue is trying to prove that to a jury. With all the evidence against him …” He stopped walking and closed his eyes. “To be quite honest they will convict him, unless …”

Silver grabbed his arm. “Unless what?”

Morgenstern stared at her hand on his three-thousand-dollar suit, then pulled his arm away and smoothed the wrinkles out. He looked her straight in the eyes. “Unless there's a
miracle or these people that you say set him up confess to these crimes.” He chuckled. “You have a better chance of a miracle than someone taking responsibility for these charges. Each count carries a penalty of twenty-five years to life, and he is being charged with a seventy-seven-count indictment.”

Silver somberly asked the ultimate question. “So what you're saying? He's looking at life in prison?”

“Doing life in prison would be the good part. The government is seeking the death penalty.” He allowed her a moment to process this but then got down to business. “Ms. Jones, you are Mr. Haze's fiancée, so I'll grant you the courtesy of handling the financial aspects of this case. I can almost guarantee that I can convince them to spare Mr. Haze's life, but it will take a ransom sum to do that.”

Warily, she stared at him. “How much?”

“Well, I'll have to delay the trial for a few years until things die down, then talk to some judges, file motions, things like that, so I guess two hundred thousand might cover it. I'll need half of it up front.”

Silver was taken aback, knowing it would be impossible for her to come up with that kind of money.

“You have my card. Give me a call when you get the money together.”

Silver watched the man scamper off toward the elevator.

It was the loneliest and lowest point of Silver's life. Once again, she was alone, with nobody in the world to turn to, and she cried all the way home. She knew she had to pull herself together, but how could she when her life had been turned upside down? Just when she felt she could lie down and die, her
mother's voice came to her. As if her mother was right there with her, Silver started asking her what to do. And at that moment, all the years of teachings—all the lessons that Jesse had ever taught her—came back to her as clear as day, and she had the answers. She looked toward the sky. “Thank you, Mother!”

RIKERS ISLAND

T
he bus ride across the bridge to Rikers Island was horrible.
It doesn't get any more ghetto than this
, Silver thought. The crowded bus was filled with women chattering as though they were going on a field trip. Some of them sounded as though they had known each other for years. One particularly loudmouthed girl from Brooklyn, nothing but ass and stomach, talked mad shit the entire ride to the island. She wore a one-piece spandex black outfit at least two sizes too small, and long, multicolored extensions in her hair. She was with three of her six kids, all by different daddies, and yelled at them the entire ride like she was a drill sergeant.

“Tay-Tay sit your fuckin’ ass down before I fuck you up! Daquan, I'm gonna bust your ass if you do it again! Shauniqua, close your fucking legs and sit right before I slap you!”

If she wasn't yelling at the kids, she was talking to her friends about how every girl on the bus was there to take her man, and how they were all jealous of her. Silver didn't usually judge people, but this bitch really needed her ass kicked for wearing something like that. She wondered if the girl really
thought she was sexy with her fat stomach hanging out of the tight outfit.

Trying desperately to tune them out, she began to smile as she thought of seeing Chance for the first time in nearly two months. As the bus drew closer to Rikers Island, the creepy sight of the compound came into view. The bridge that spanned the quarter mile of cold, murky water separating the island from Queens was the only way in or out. On the island, stone-faced, armed corrections officers patrolled the perimeter of fence topped with stainless-steel razor-spiked barbs.

When they finally arrived at the visitor processing center, the women had to board yet another bus to take them to their loved ones’”house”—C-74, C-76, HDM, the Beacon, Rose M. Singer, Anna Kross, and so on. The eeriest thing about Rikers Island was that even though thousands of inmates were housed in the facility, the silence was almost deafening.

Silver realized that the bus ride was not the worst part after all. The worst was the cruel and degrading way the corrections officers talked to and treated the women when they got there. They barked at them as if they were criminals themselves if they didn't follow their instructions to the letter. And Silver had had no idea that she would be subjected to a full strip search in order to see Chance, who was still in Rikers’ main infirmary.

The entire process was tiring, and it took over two hours before she was led into the visiting room to await Chance's arrival. They made the rules perfectly clear: no touching, no kissing, no passing any items. To violate any of these rules would be cause for immediate removal off the island and the visitors’ list. After twenty minutes or so sitting at table number twelve, Silver heard a loud voice.

“Entering seven!”

A buzzing sound, followed by the clanking of a steel gate, was heard throughout the room. Two COs, one in front and one in back of seven inmates, entered the room. Each inmate wore an orange jumpsuit and flip-flops, and was shackled hand and foot with long chained cuffs. They all took short, choppy steps as they bobbed toward their assigned table. Despite such medieval conditions, each prisoner's eyes searched the room, desperately anxious to sight their loved ones. Silver's heart began to race, but her smile slowly disappeared as each man passed by to walk over to his assigned seat. Worried, Silver was about to walk over to the sergeant's booth to inquire about Chancellor Haze when she heard another guard call out, “Entering one!”

Hope resurfaced as she watched the gate open. But she felt as if a searing piece of hot steel slashed through her heart when she saw Chance enter the room with the aid of a CO, who pushed him in a wheelchair.

Silver desperately fought the urge to cry in front of Chance. She had to be strong for his sake and for herself because of what she would be attempting to do. With every ounce of strength she had, she fought the urge to hug him, remembering the rules. So she just sat and smiled widely. Chance's chin rested on his chest, his neck unable to support his head by itself. He sagged limply in the wheelchair, looking as though he had lost fifty pounds. But nothing was worse than the oxygen tube that protruded from his throat. In spite of seeing him so helpless, Silver blocked it from her mind. “Hey, boo, how are you doing?”

He bobbed his head as he fought to raise it. He even managed a slight smile.

“I'm much better.”

Silver was amazed he could speak with the tube. After they talked for about a half-hour or so, he almost sounded like his old self, with the exception of a few slurs and wheezes. After she had gained enough courage, Silver told Chance what his lawyer had told her at court about his apartment and what he faced in the near future. Chance seemed unmoved by the news. After a long pause he finally spoke in a low, measured tone.

“Silver, I know this is gonna be hard, what I'm about to say, but I just want you to listen.” He paused to ensure he had her full attention, and looked around the room to make sure no one was listening. “I want you to get the money I gave Ms. Geneva for you and leave New York.” She watched Chance strain to find the words. “Take the money for your education and forget about spending it on me, ‘cause I'm already dead.”

“Are you finished?” Silver asked. Chance didn't answer. Edging closer, Silver glanced down at her watch. “Baby, we don't have that much time left, so I suggest you just listen very carefully. As much as you're not going to like this, I'm going to get you out of here, and there is absolutely nothing you can do about it.”

“Silver, please, don't be foolish. I won't be able to take it if something happens to you,” he muttered.

“So now you know how I feel!” Silver whispered. “All those years that we weren't together, I was nothing, you hear me? Nothing without you, baby. That's when I realized that I would surely go crazy without you. Chance, you are me and I am you—we are one. And I'm never going to let you go, ‘cause if I do I'll only be letting myself go. Do you understand that,
Chance?” Chance turned away, but despite the rules she grabbed his hand and turned his face so she could look him dead in the eye. “So it's either win or lose, and believe me, I'm ready to die for my man!”

A tear fell from the corner of his eye, but he said nothing. Silver knew that she had to have the strength to carry both of them. “Chance, you have two choices. Either you help me and give me the information I need and I'll have a little chance of surviving, or I'll do it by myself and have no chance of surviving. But I do know one thing for sure—either I get you out of here or I'm gonna die trying!”

Chance stared at her for a moment, then shook his head in frustration. He knew that when Silver had her mind made up, that was it. He was powerless, with nowhere to run this time, no way to bluff his way out of it for her best interest. He relented.

Chance listened intently to Silver's plan, and they talked for another half an hour as he filled in the blanks by telling her who was who and what was what. He told her if she was to have the remotest possibility of pulling this thing off, she would need help, big help. She would need to recruit the right players—people she could trust, who could play their roles and be willing to put their lives on the line in the process. Chance explained that she would need four or five people. One, a front man, someone who was well connected in the drug game, someone who had big access to drugs—Diego, Silver thought. Two, a gorilla-type nigger who didn't give a fuck, who wasn't afraid to do stick-ups or lay niggas down—Chubbs. Three, a big bodyguard-type nigger—Birdie. Four, a person who knew
how to break into places, pick locks and safes—Beasley. And five, a person who could introduce one man to another, someone known to have past connections with drug lords—Missy.

Their time was almost up, but the last thing she and Chance discussed was Hollis. Chance explained everything about Hollis to her, how he was the most dangerous and ruthless man alive.

In the five boroughs of New York, murder and mayhem were at an all-time high. Over two thousand murders took place that year alone, with stacks of bodies showing up all over Harlem and the South Bronx. True to his word, Hollis was causing such havoc and fear that other dealers completely shut down shop, retired, or moved their entire operation further north to small upstate towns or further south to ghettos like Baltimore, D.C, or Philly In any event, niggas weren't fucking with Hollis now that he had allied himself with King Papone. With Chance and the Italians out of the way, Harlem became Hollis’ own little candy store, and the only people who were getting rich were Hollis and funeral directors.

“Under no circumstances should you ever underestimate Hollis!” Chance stressed. Silver intently listened to everything.

Just then, the men began to file out from their visit, and she knew their time was almost up, that they had only about five more minutes before his escort came for Chance. Silver smiled. “The doctors at the hospital were calling you Superman because they never saw anyone take so many bullets and live. That makes you invincible.”

Chance chuckled. “Don't believe that. Every man, even Superman, has his weaknesses. Superman has Kryptonite, and I have Silver.”

They both laughed. “So what are Hollis’ weaknesses?” Silver asked as a joke. Chance thought about it for a moment, but before he could answer, the CO came to escort him back to his cell. As he pushed Chance away from the table, Silver spoke to him. “Sir … I know you have rules, but do you think I can give him a kiss good-bye?”

The CO looked at her. “Go ahead, but make it quick.”

Silver thanked him and while he briefly turned his back, she bent down and gave Chance a passionate kiss on the lips, followed by a gentle hug. Before they pulled away, Chance whispered in her ear, “Women and his mouth.”

Silver looked at Chance, not understanding what he meant.

“Women and his mouth are Hollis’ Kryptonite!”

Missy walked out
of the rehab center after sixty days, looking totally fantastic. She had gained about twenty pounds in all the right places. When she stepped out of the building, she was greeted by Silver, parked out front eagerly awaiting her arrival. They hugged like they hadn't seen each other in years. “Girl, look you,” Silver squealed. “You look great!”

Missy did a 360, letting Silver see her new look.

“Damn, girl, what's up with that ass?” Silver joked.

“You know I always had one, but now I got ass on top of ass!”

They both laughed, then Silver loaded Missy's bags into the car and drove off. On the road, Silver told Missy everything that had gone down since she was away. Missy was brought to tears when she heard about Chance and what Hollis had done to him. And just as Silver thought, Missy was down to do
whatever it took to get Chance out of the predicament he was in. Silver told her of her plan and how she needed to act quickly.

“Missy, I know you just got out of the clinic, and I'll understand if you ain't up to it yet. Just say the word.”

Missy looked at her like she was silly. “Bitch, when did you ever know me not to be ready for no drama? Besides, you don't know shit about the streets, and I can't allow nothing to happen to my girl. You know I would die for you, bitch!”