Street Chronicles Girls in the Game (18 page)

It was said that Bossy shot him in his hands and kneecaps to teach him a lesson. She reasoned that he shouldn't have been so stupid and hit a man with as many resources as Teddy Bear.

Twan walked out on the porch to meet Bossy. She never
showed her face at any spot that might be hot, so Twan knew something was wrong.

“Where's ya boy Ant?” barked Bossy.

“He's right in there. What's going on?” Twan was confused.

“Ant, get your dumb ass out here. Better yet, let's handle this inside so the neighbors don't overhear us and call the police.”

Again Twan asked what was going on. Bossy told Ant to explain to Twan what he'd done. Ant remained silent.

“Since his bitch ass won't own up to what he did, I'll let you know.” Bossy felt her heart race as she focused on Twan. “He rode up on my spot and made demands on Aisha. He tried to strong-arm her into repaying the loss y'all took on the raid.”

“Ant, what the fuck you thinking?” Twan demanded.

“You know as well as I do that if we could have stashed that shit in the shop, Powell and Meeks would have come up empty on their illegal raid.”

Shadaisy stood in the background listening and realized just how much of a punk Ant was.

“Are you crazy? What kind of logic is that?” Twan asked.

“What I want to know is, how in the hell did they get that much weight from y'all when you always bring it to me first for storage and packaging?” Bossy knew she'd just busted Twan and he'd have to come clean. The Yo’ was too small for him to think word hadn't gotten back to her about his deal with C-Lok. Twan dropped his head in contemplation of answering Bossy truthfully.

“Do you think that just because I ain't out here the way I used to be that I'm to be fucked with?” Bossy spoke calmly to Ant.

“Naw it ain't even like that. I just lost my mind for a minute and panicked because ain't no way for us to repay that bill, and soon our connect is gonna come looking for his paper.”

Walking closer to her new enemy, Bossy bent over and looked
Ant in the eyes for what seemed like an eternity before she said a word.

“I'm going to say this one time. We are no longer affiliated with each other. I don't fuck with bitch-ass men. If you ever cross paths with me again, it will be the second-biggest mistake of your life. No one has ever fucked with me and gotten away with it, and that includes you.” Bossy straightened up and turned to face Twan. “You gon’ have to cut this bitch loose, or our relationship is over, too.” The room was silent except for the screen door slamming as Bossy left.

Bossy knew she'd have to see—or take care of—Ant before he tried to see her. Bossy had no problem being the last one standing, and she knew just who to call to take care of this problem.

D
riving toward her destination, Lajetia was determined to get to the bottom of what was going on with Twan. Her instinct told her that whatever it was had to be serious for Bossy to call their house instead of Twan's cell. Other than that ugly-ass Ant, no one ever called Twan at home. No cars were parked on the corners of Hillman Street and St. Louis Avenue, so that meant all of the employees of KAT69 had left for the day. She decided to head over to the house on Warren.

Waiting for traffic to clear and allow her to make a left-hand turn onto Hillman Street, Lajetia saw Ant's deuce-and-a-quarter speed by. Lajetia sped right past a police car parked in front of New Bethel Baptist Church. The sound of the sirens drew her out of her daydream, frightening her.
Now, what the hell do they want? Shit, I don't have time for this,
she thought. Lajetia pulled her van into Mr. Charles's Used-car Lot and waited for the officers to approach her driver's-side window. To her surprise, they rode past her and stopped Ant.

A block away, Ant made a right onto Myrtle Avenue, and two officers exited the patrol car and approached him. Lajetia parked her van and joined the small crowd watching the traffic stop.

L
icense, registration, and proof of insurance, please,” requested Officer Meeks.

“What's the problem, Officer?” replied Ant.

“The problem is we clocked you doing fifty in a thirty-five. Now, please provide your documents.” Ant was actually going only five miles over the speed limit, but the crooked officers had no intention of writing him a ticket. That would only provide written proof of their confrontation with the right-hand man of the drug dealer they had been trying to get next to for months now.

“Please turn off the engine and wait here.” Officer Meeks turned on his heel and headed back to his patrol car.

After Teddy Bear was killed, the officers lost a good part of their income, because Twan refused to pay them the way his mentor had. Being from New York City and growing up fast and hard, Officer Powell knew how to set a trap and lure in his prey After months of planning, it was time to get things started.

While off duty one evening, Officer Powell spotted Twan leaving a house on the east side of town. John Powell couldn't let the grand opportunity pass him by, so he carefully followed the unsuspecting drug dealer for miles. At best, Twan would lead him to his home; at worst, he'd lead him to one of his hangouts. Either way, Powell felt he would gain some information on Twan. Twenty minutes after first seeing his prey, Powell watched Twan pull up in front of a ranch-style home in Boardman. Powell later discovered it was the home that Twan shared with his girlfriend and three children.

Officer Robert Meeks returned to the driver's side of Ant's antique car after fifteen minutes and demanded he exit the vehicle.

“I'm sure that everything is up-to-date and the insurance is active, so what's the problem, Officer?” demanded Ant.

“Please get out of the vehicle and keep your hands where I can see them.”

Following departmental procedures, Officer Powell frisked his suspect down. Ant prayed that they would write him a ticket and let him go home; at that moment he needed a stiff drink.

Once they were comfortable that Ant was unarmed, they asked for permission to search the vehicle. Wanting the entire scene over with, Ant granted their request. Officer Powell carried out the search while his partner stood in front of the squad car with their nervous suspect.

“We aren't going to find any drugs or weapons inside the vehicle, are we?” questioned Meeks.

“No, I ride around with my children in that car,” Ant lied. “Don't you see the car seat in the back?” The car seat was kept in the car to throw off the police.

Returning with a Ziploc bag containing a white powdery substance, Officer Powell asked Ant if he'd like to rethink his answer. Ant stood dumbfounded and nervous, wondering where the drugs could have come from. He was certain he didn't have anything on him when he left the house. The officers must have been setting him up.

Sitting in the back of the patrol car, Ant listened as the officers began to list a variety of charges he'd soon face, including possession, evading arrest, and lying to an officer. Ant shook in his skin at the thought of going to jail, especially after what had happened to him during his last stay in the county.

“Officers, I swear those drugs aren't mine. Someone must have
put ‘em there. I love my children too much to put them in jeopardy like that. You have to believe me,” Ant pleaded.

“We believe you, but we doubt that any judge will even listen to a defense like that,” mocked Officer Powell.

“Please, there has to be a way to clear all of this up without taking me to jail.”

The partners looked at each other, knowing they had the young punk exactly where they wanted him. Meeks, being the senior officer and knowing how money-hungry drug dealers thought about saving themselves first, got a hard-on at the thought of getting a nice share of Ant's dirty money. The one thing in life he'd always wanted and could never seem to hold on to was money. His life and dreams revolved around it.

The youngest of eight children, he'd known poverty his entire life. His father worked hard at the steel mills to keep food on the table and a roof over his family's heads. His mother broke her back cleaning floors for both white and black families. He and his brothers and sisters would rub their mother's feet and massage her back every night for hours. He promised his parents that when he was able, he'd take care of them. Both of his parents were so proud the day their youngest boy graduated from the police academy. Robert was proud himself, and vowed to provide a better life for the two people who'd sacrificed their lives for him.

Living on a police officer's salary of $35,000 a year was pretty easy in the Youngstown area. The cost of living was low, and Powell could afford to pay his rent and that of his parents with no problem until he got married. After he married and began having children of his own, and his mother moved into a nursing home, his salary could be stretched only so far. He needed fast money. Thus began his life of hustling the hustlers.

“There is a way to get out of this situation, but I'm not sure you can handle it,” said Meeks.

“Tell me what it is. I'll do anything. What is it?” Ant begged.

“We know that if the drugs aren't yours, they belong to Antwan ‘Twan’ Glover.”

“How do you know anything about my boy?”

“We know everything about him and you. We know where you both live, what both of you drive, that Twan has three children, and that you visit your dear mother every morning.”

“What are you talking about? Have you been watching us?”

“Let's just say we have our sources. We know who Bossy Tucker is, and where she lives, but what we can't figure out is how she falls into the drug ring you and your boy run.” Officer Meeks turned to look at Ant and get a feel for which way to take the conversation. The officer noticed Ant had stopped shaking and seemed to be thinking about what they were saying. “We want information on Antwan Glover, Bossy Tucker, and Clifton Boyd. We want to know what their roles are, and how deep this thing goes. Don't start out by lying to us. We know Mr. Boyd is your supplier. We suggest you find a way to get us close to Antwan, Bossy, and Clifton, because if you don't, you will be doing federal time and taking the rap for everyone. That means your dear mother will have to travel a long way to see you, son,” warned Meeks.

“Y'all are putting me in a tight spot,” Ant whined.

“The prosecutor has enough evidence right now to arrest Antwan and send him away for at least twenty years,” Meeks exaggerated. “So what's it going to be? Are we taking you downtown? Before you answer, think about what will happen to your mother if her only living child is behind bars,” Officer Powell threatened.

Ant contemplated the deal the officers had placed before him. He knew that Bossy would be looking to punish him for approaching Aisha the way he did. And by the way Twan reacted
when he found out what Ant had done, there was a good chance that he was about to cut him loose. That would mean his money would dry up along with his clout around the Yo'. He never thought he'd do it, but Ant reasoned it was better for him to get Twan and Bossy before they got him.

August had finally arrived, and the streets of the Yo’ were boomin'. It was as if all of the players had added amps, speakers, and TVs to their rides. The strong sounds of bass were everywhere.

The brains behind the annual block party, Danny Levy, added something every year to keep people coming back. Even those who grew up on Kenmore and had moved away always came home for the event. Last year Danny added a car show and parade, and this year he was featuring homegrown artists like rappers No-Joke and Rufus Black and novelist Tysha. He had also booked Toledo native Lyfe Jennings.

Bossy, Aisha, and Terry were each in her own apartment preparing for the block party, all wearing T-shirts with the KAT69 insignia. Being the biggest sponsor this year gave them the perfect opportunity to get word out about the changes KAT69 was in the midst of implementing. By spring KAT69 hair and nail salon would become a full-service day spa offering child care for its clients. They had marketing items like flyers, ink pens, Frisbees, and beer mugs made up, all to be handed out free at the block party.

The women arrived on Kenmore and helped the staff of KAT69 work their table and hand out the marketing items. They held a raffle for free hair services valued at sixty dollars. There
would be five lucky winners. Other participating merchants also held raffles to raise money for Danny's nonprofit organization. The money benefited residents of Kenmore Avenue who had hit hard times and the local Little League football and basketball teams, and also went to help beautify the street. The participating artists made donations, although Danny asked them to keep their profits from selling their CDs and books. He said their being there was payment enough.

When the time came for the free concert to begin, the crowd was hyped. First up, novelist Tysha read from her third book,
Young-minded Hustler,
to be released later in the fall. No-Joke went on next and blew the stage up. Rufus Black kept the crowd hyped, and Lyfe Jennings sang his soul out and laid it down.

Twan and Lajetia had brought the kids out to enjoy the clowns, petting zoo, and food vendors. Twan couldn't wait to get his hands on a homemade candy apple and get on one of the rides. Danny had thought of everything, right down to the mini-amusement park.

“I'm going to let the kids ride and have some fun,” Lajetia informed Twan.

“Cool, I'm going to buy the CDs from those acts that performed. Do you want that book?” asked Twan.

“Yeah, I do, and see if she'll autograph it for me. But try not to be gone too long.”

“No problem, just hold it down with the kids and I'll be right back.”

Knowing Bossy was somewhere in the crowd, Lajetia watched Twan disappear into the mix. As the kids went around in circles on the train ride, Lajetia stood looking back and forth between the kids and trying to keep an eye on Twan.

After riding all of the rides, Kiara announced to her mother that she was hungry. Lajetia put Trayvon back into his stroller and
led Kiara and Tyler to the line for hot dogs, fries, and drinks. She and the kids found a table to eat at, and again Lajetia eyed her man. He stood laughing and talking to her hairdresser, Sirenna, and her husband, No-Joke, and Bossy. Jealousy instantly rose in Lajetia, and it took all she had not to go the hell off.