No More Mr. Nice Guy (12 page)

Jasmine and I had spent most of the day getting my hair, nails, and feet done for another date with Niles. It was almost time for him to pick me up, and I was just about ready when I felt my mother's presence hovering in the doorway. I tried to ignore her and finish what I was doing, I swear I did, but her continuously loud sighs were becoming more aggravating by the second.

“Where's he taking you?” she asked all nasty and mean.

“I don't know, but then again, I don't really care either. I finally have a man who wants to take me out and treat me nice,” I said.

“Well, I'm not happy about this.” She folded her arms and reminded me for about the hundredth time that Majestic was her favorite person on the face of the earth.

“Look, you done made yourself clear, and so have I. This is me doing me, and I don't need your approval. If you haven't figured it out, I'm a grown-ass woman. You live with me, not the other way around. If you don't like it, you can leave.” I knew that would hurt her, and it wasn't like I was happy about insulting my mother, but I was getting sick of her shit.

“Fine. But don't come crying to me when this shit blows up in your face and Majestic kicks your ass for cheating on him.” She sounded almost like she was looking forward to witnessing that day.

“You would like that, wouldn't you?”

She sucked her teeth and stared me down. “Sometimes a good ass-whipping is exactly what a woman needs to get her priorities straight.”

“You know what, Mama? I think you actually believe that.” I shook my head, feeling a little sorry for her.

“I do. There were plenty of times I needed my ass whipped,” she said and my mouth dropped open. “I just never had anyone with as much money as Majestic doing it.”

I shook my head, unable to deal with her anymore. I felt bad that she seemed to totally lack self-esteem, but I was also pissed that she wanted to see me tied down to someone who would beat my ass too. What kind of a mother wishes that for her daughter?

“Can you check on MJ, since you're supposed to be watching him?” I was desperate to get her out of my face with her steady stream of negativity. Once she walked out, I cranked up the music because I needed it to shift my mood after dealing with her ugliness. Nicky Minaj was the shit the doctor ordered. By the time the doorbell rang, I was flying high with anticipation of the night ahead.

The skintight bebe dress with the dropped ruffle at the knee and the snakeskin Jessica Simpson heels I chose to wear had every part of my body on point, but not in a hoochie mama way.

“Wow!” Niles's whistled when I opened the door and he took an appreciative trip up and down my body with his eyes.

“Wow yourself,” I said, checking him out too. If I had thought I was going to be the best dressed person on this date, I was dead wrong. He was wearing a tailored black suit that looked like it was made for his body.

Although we talked almost every day, I hadn't seen Niles since our date two weeks earlier. Well, what a difference two weeks make, because Niles looked like he'd been transformed into a supermodel. I swear I was getting hot and bothered just looking at him. I grabbed my purse and slammed the door before I dragged him into my room like some desperate, sex-starved ho.

A black Town Car sat at the curb, an older white man in a suit standing beside it. He opened the door as we reached the car. I turned to look at Niles in awe. I had no idea he got down like this. No one else I knew in Wyandanch showed up for a date in a chauffeur-driven car. Shoot, plenty of people I knew didn't even own a car.

Niles winked at me, enjoying the surprised expression on my face.

Twenty minutes later, the driver pulled in front of The Lobster Café, one of the nicest seafood restaurants in all of Long Island, according to the critics at Newsday. Of course I'd never been there before. Places like this weren't Majestic's style. He liked anyplace with large portions and buffet items he was already familiar with.

“I hope this is okay. A colleague from work brought me here, and I thought you would like it. I can vouch for this place. The food and wine are excellent,” Niles said as we looked over the menus. There was something different about him, something more confident and classy than I remembered. It was like he had matured five years in the two weeks we'd been apart.

“You're kidding, right? This is the fanciest place I've ever been to in my entire life,” I admitted, feeling like the most unsophisticated date ever.

The entire dinner was amazing, like something out of a fairytale. The restaurant was on the water, and even at night I could see the ripples in the water, shimmering in the moonlight as boats passed. We sat there for hours talking, eating, and just having a good time.

Niles had ordered for both of us, and he made me close my eyes before I took the first bite. I'd never tasted food so sophisticated on my palate, words my date had used earlier when he explained our dishes to me. I tasted flavors I didn't even know existed. These were certainly foods my mother had never cooked, and they weren't on the McDonald's menu, which was one of the only restaurants I'd eaten at as a kid. The wine was to die for, too.

“That's steak? Like, why does it taste that good?” I gushed as I popped my eyes open and saw the meat, charred on the outside but red, barely cooked on the inside. I had never eaten meat that raw, so it surprised me that I enjoyed it so much.

“A good steak is supposed to be eaten char rare, or black-andred,” he told me, sounding like some kind of expert.

“I would have never ordered it that way,” I admitted as I took the fork from him, cut off another piece, and popped it in my mouth.

Something told me that Niles could teach me things I didn't know about a whole lot of subjects. All night we had been on the same page, and something told me that the rest of the night would not be any different. The longer we sat there talking, the more I wanted to show him something too: me, butt naked and writhing on top of him.

“I want you,” I said as we rode away from the restaurant.

Niles rubbed his hand on my leg and up my thigh. Then he placed his hand between my legs, making me want to groan. I expected him to reach for my panties, but he pulled his hand back out and moved me closer to him.

“Your place or mine?” he asked.

“Mine,” I replied.

Niles instructed the driver to take us back to my house. I fell back against the seat, a goofy smile on my face, because I knew that it was only a matter of minutes before we arrived at my place.

We'd just pulled down my block when my stomach started doing flips. I almost threw up all that wonderful food I had eaten when I saw the black Navigator parked in front of my house. “Oh my God.” The words slipped out of my mouth, unintentionally alerting Niles that there was problem.

“What's wrong?” he asked, but then he spotted Bruce's truck sitting in front of the house. “Who's that?

I could hardly breathe, let alone talk. All I could think of was crazy-ass Bruce seeing Niles. Somehow I found my voice and pleaded, “Just go to your house, please, Niles. Tell the driver not to stop at my house. Please. We can't stop at my house.”

Niles cut his eyes, studying me. He did not look happy, and I could imagine the thoughts going through his head. I was relieved that he didn't confront me, but instead did as I'd asked and directed the driver to keep going.

He leaned forward and got the driver's attention. “My man, swing by where you picked me up instead.”

As we passed the truck, I stared at big-ass Shorty sitting behind the wheel. Bruce sat next him, talking on his phone. In the back seat were two of Majestic's meanest hard-asses, Pooh and Freddy G. I didn't know what the heck they were all sitting in front of my house for, and I wasn't ready to find out. Thank God for tinted windows.

We rode in silence for a while, but I guess Niles couldn't take it but for so long.

“You all right?” he asked, and I realized every muscle in my body was still tense.

“No. I'm not,” I confessed.

“Who were they, and what was that all about?” Niles watched and waited for me to continue.

“I haven't been completely honest with you,” I answered. “My son's father is not a very nice person, and those were his people in that car.”

Niles's face revealed his concern and his anger. “Maybe we should turn around and have a talk with those gentlemen.”

“No! God, no!” I said in a panic, feeling like I couldn't breathe again.

“I thought you two weren't together,” Niles said, picking up on my reaction. He was so observant of every move and every word. If anything more developed between us, I would surely never be able to hide my feelings from him.

“We're not together, but it's complicated.” My own words sounded hollow, but they weren't a lie, that was for sure.

“Complicated how?” he pressed.

“He doesn't want to let go, and he's nobody to be played with, Niles.”

“Neither am I,” he said confidently. I was sure that if he knew what I knew about Majestic and his boys, he wouldn't have been quite as cocky.

“Niles, those guys aren't Rodney and his friends. They're killers, and they enjoy what they do. Especially that crazy-ass Pooh.”

He folded his arms, ignoring my warning. “Well, you can't duck and dodge them forever. Sooner or later you're going to have to make a stand.”

Suddenly I wished I was a kid, like my son, and I could just stick my fingers in my ears and act like I didn't hear him. I didn't want to ever have to make a stand against Majestic and his thugs, although I knew that if I wanted this thing with Niles to work out, then one day I would have to.

After picking up a stash of guns Majestic kept hidden in Keisha's garage, I drove out to Amityville to look for DaQuan. There was a bar called Odell's, right off Route 110, where all the dope boys and wannabes hung out. I decided to hit it up as soon as we rolled into town. Odell's was more like an institution, and I'd spent quite a bit of time with Majestic in that place back in the day.

As soon as I got out of the truck with Pooh, Fred, and Shorty, this scrawny cat with a fake gold grill standing next to the door said to his mini-me friend, “Oh, shit. That's Bruce.” As we got closer, he shouted, “What's up, Bruce?” He was a little too familiar for a motherfucker I didn't remember ever laying eyes on.

“Do I know you?” I growled at the fool as I looked him up and down dismissively, shutting him down just like the maggot he was. He snatched open the door and stepped aside as we entered without saying another word. His mini-me friend kept laughing at his ass the whole time he was fronting.

Odell's was the kind of comfortable neighborhood hangout that entertained at least two generations at any given time. It had a killer jukebox and a back room with a pool table that was always in rotation. There wasn't much of an age limit, and since everybody specialized in minding their own business, a lot of shit went down on the regular.

The bartender, Harold, a guy I'd gone to school with and whose grandparents owned the spot, broke into a smile as I entered and met him at the bar.

“My man Bruce. What's going on, brotha?” We slapped hands. “Sorry to hear about your man Majestic. Let him know I asked about him.”

“I sure will, Harold.”

“Cool. What you fellas drinking? First one's on me.” Harold knew this couldn't be a social call for me to roll in here this deep. Everyone on Long Island knew if Majestic and I brought Pooh's crazy ass out, it wasn't meant to be social and somebody's ass was about to get got.

“Nothing right now,” I told him. “We're looking for someone. You seen that dude DaQuan Braithwaite around here lately?”

Before he could answer, Synthia, a cocoa-colored little shorty with a banging body and a fierce head game I hit every so often scooted up to me, poking her titties out like she wanted me to reach out and grab them. She had a man, but so did most of the chicks I fucked with. It was easier to keep them in line that way, and much less of a headache.

“Hey, Brucey,” Synthia cooed, cozying up next to me, completely oblivious to the current vibration.

“Look, I'm here on business, so go sit your ass down.” I didn't even bother to look at her. My tone of voice told her everything she needed to know.

“No problem, daddy.” She hustled back to wherever she had come from.

Harold and the boys busted up at how under control I had these bitches.

Harold leaned close to make sure I was paying attention and gave a slight nod toward the next room. I waved to my guys, and we moved past the people getting their drink on, until we reached the back room. DaQuan and another guy, a redbone with freckles, were playing a game, while all their boys stood around watching and taking bets on the winner.

“DaQuan!” I called out right as he was about to take a shot.

He flipped the ball over the stick, causing it to land with a thud across the table, instead of sinking perfectly into the hole. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” he snapped, gripping that pool cue like he was about to do something, until he turned and saw that I was the one who had called his name. The wind went out of his sail, and he backed way the fuck up.

“Oh, shit. Bruce, what's up, man?”

“What's up my ass, motherfucker. Let's take a walk.”

He took one look past me at Pooh, Shorty, and Fred, who all flanked me, blocking the door and any chance of an exit.

“Uh, for what? What's the problem?” Dude looked like he wanted to shit himself.

“Rodney's the problem. Word on the street is you had beef with him. Now he's dead. So that says we need to talk.” I pointed at the front door.

His eyes doubled in diameter. “Bruce, I ain't have shit to do with that.”

“You can tell me all about it on our walk,” I said calmly, trying not to make a scene in front of witnesses.

“Nah. I don't think so,” he said, shaking his head quickly. “I ain't taking no walk with you. I already said I ain't had nothing to do with Rodney. You wanna talk, we can talk right here.” His eyes traveled the room, checking to see that his boys were all there to back him up.

“No, I think the conversation would be better outside.” The bass in my voice grew stronger, letting him know that I was running out of patience.

He started to get twitchy as he spoke, which wasn't a good sign, because I was sure he was carrying a gun. “I know what happens on these walks, and I ain't walking nowhere with you.”

Shorty took a step closer to him. His nickname was ironic, considering he was at least six foot six.

“Then I'm gonna carry your ass out of here, you lying piece of shit.” Pooh's crazy ass leapt past us and slammed a pistol repeatedly upside DaQuan's head, causing him to crumble to the floor in agony.

“Get that nigga's piece,” I ordered.

Pooh reached down and found it as Shorty picked DaQuan up off the ground and slung him over his shoulder.

“I swear I'm innocent. I swear.”

You'd think one of his boys or somebody would come to his defense, but hell, we might as well have been ghost considering the amount of attention we got as we left Odell's. Nobody said shit.

Twenty minutes later at the Wyandanch landfill, Shorty dropped DaQuan to the ground like a sack of flour. We'd given him a pretty good beating on the way over, but this fool would not crack.

“Tell me the truth!” I glanced at my watch and realized I was supposed to be somewhere in ten minutes, so as I stood over him I pulled out my gun to inspire him to talk soon.

“It wasn't me!” he shouted, but at this point I was pretty sure he knew what I was about to do. Surprisingly, he sat up straight and looked me dead in the eyes. “I didn't kill Rodney. And to tell you the truth, I didn't like Rodney and was glad somebody got him, but that somebody wasn't me. If it was, I wouldn't lie on it. I'd tell you why I did it. Everyone knows he was living off his brother's rep. Rodney was a pain in the ass. ”

“Yeah, but he was our piece-of-shit pain in the ass.” Without allowing him to take another breath, I pumped three bullets into his chest.

Pooh knelt down and checked his wrist to see if he had a pulse. He shook his head, and we headed back to the car.

Fred spoke up for the first time that night. “Yo, boss, you think he was telling the truth? He sounded pretty damn sincere.”

I stopped dead in my tracks, giving Fred a look that could have chilled the devil himself. “Who the fuck are you, Nancy Drew all of a sudden? Ain't nobody paying you to think. Just shut the fuck up and get in the damn car!” was what I said to him, but I had to admit to myself that I had been thinking the same damn thing.