Thirsty (19 page)
Authors: Mike Sanders
Although Carlos had been met with an unfortunate circumstance, I knew his henchmen were still lurking in the cut, waiting for me to resurface. And I couldn’t live my life constantly being paranoid, not knowing whether I’d catch a bullet while walking down the street or while pumping gas like the victims of the D.C
.
sniper, I couldn’t live like that.
I was thrilled when Monk had told me that he’d made up his mind to go back home with me. With each day that passed without me hearing from him had me in suspended terror. I was worried about my brother’s safety because Monk was the only family I had. I didn’t know what I’d do if I was to lose him.
Everything had seemed to be getting better for me, until one morning I was laying in J.T.’s bed when his home phone rang. He’d already left for the day, and out of respect I still wasn’t answering his phone so I just let it ring. After a few rings his answering machine picked up. Apparently he’d forgotten to turn the volume down because I heard a chick’s voice loud and clear. I started to reach over and turn down the volume, but the voice sounded very familiar and it piqued my curiosity so I let it play.
“J.T., this is Joy
again.
I’m tired of callin’ you and you ain’t callin’ a bitch back. I
wants
my money nigga! I ain’t playin’! You an’ Red ain’t gonna play me like that. If you don’t want me to call Lil’ Joe and Supreme an’ nem and tell ’em what
really
happened, you betta come up off my stacks and I mean
today
muthafucka!”
Anger crept up on me and I started to pick up the phone and blaze that heifer, but her next words made me sit straight up in the bed and gasp.
Joy said, “How you think Justice and Monk would feel if they knew the truth? Oh, you think I didn’t know you been layin’ up wit’ that bitch? You betta get at me nigga!”
It was Sapphire’s cousin Joy, and after she’d hung up I sat there spellbound, staring wide-eyed at that damn machine as if it would get up and walk away at any given second.
What the fuck had she meant by
“how Justice would feel if she knew the truth?”
What fuckin’ “truth”? And what did Carlos’s boys have to do with J.T.? I didn’t know that J.T. even knew those niggas. And why in the hell had my name just come outta this bitch’s mouth?
I thought,
Oh hell nah, lemme call this bitch back!
My tongue ring had unconsciously begun tapping my teeth. I jumped my naked ass out of bed with a scarf tied around my
head. Titties were bouncing everywhere as I reached for the phone and pressed *69 to return the call. I listened as a recording picked up and announced that the number would not accept incoming calls.
Damn! Think Justice! Think!
I sat back down on the bed, closed my eyes, and buried my forehead into my hands, trying to think of anyone I knew that may have had a way to contact Joy. The only person I could think of was my girl who was still lying comatose in that hospital bed. And Sapphire’s mother had recently gotten her number changed so I was clueless.
Joy had told J.T. to call her back, so that meant he had
her
number, and maybe it was somewhere in the house. With this thought, I immediately began searching the bedroom.
After putting on one of J.T.’s oversized shirts I started combing through his drawers, searching through the pockets of his clothes, which were hanging in his closet, and looking any and everywhere I thought he would keep something he didn’t want me to see. I tore that room apart like a Tsunami had been through it and still found
nada.
However, this didn’t deter me from continuing my search. I left the bedroom, went into the kitchen, and checked all the drawers. I went through all of his bills and scrap pieces of paper to see if maybe he’d scribbled Joy’s number down and forgotten it. I found several numbers with names, but none of them were Joy’s. I even checked the living room and came up empty. This nigga was good!
I was getting frustrated. I went back into the kitchen and walked over to the wall phone and dialed the first four digits of J.T.’s cell number, ready to wild out and see what the hell was going on! But I stopped myself and thought for a second, trying to come up with another alternative. After a few short seconds, I realized that there was still
one
room I hadn’t checked.
His office!
I was sure that office would be the place I’d find Joy’s number along with a lot more stuff he didn’t want me to see. I hung up the kitchen phone and proceeded to head to the one room in the house I’d never been in.
I ran up the winding stairs until I reached the top. Winded, I hurried to the office door and tried the knob. As expected, it was locked. I stood before the door contemplating on what to do. I was wondering if I should’ve just calmed down and waited for J.T. to get home and let him explain what was going on, or if I should’ve tried to enter the room and find out on my own. True enough, I trusted J.T. and didn’t think he would hide something that concerned me.
I thought,
Maybe I’m trippin’ for nothing and over reacting
.
As I stood before that door I had to take a deep breath and let it marinate for a minute because I was sure my blood pressure had probably risen. But the longer I stood at that door the more my anger rose because Joy’s message was replaying over and over in my head. I was becoming anxious as hell to find out what was going on.
The fact that I knew Joy was a scandalous bitch that would do damn near anything for a dollar had my curiosity at peak level. A million scenarios swirled through my mind as I tried to justify J.T.’s reason for even dealing with a low-level, bottom feeder like her. I was thinking that maybe Red had done something to her and maybe she was also blaming J.T. because the two were cousins and known to be together frequently. But any way I looked at it, that bitch had mentioned me and my brother’s names and in any case, I had to find out what
that
had been about!
Anger overpowered rationality and before I knew it I was beating on that door like I was trying to break that bitch down. I pounded on that door until my hands were sore and beet red. I soon tired myself out and realized what I was doing was fruitless. I turned my back to the door and slid to the floor with exhaustion. I
had
to get into that room and it looked like I definitely wasn’t going to knock the door down, so I had to take another approach. I went back downstairs and called my brother, using my cell.
“What up, sis.”
“Hey, you know Joy?” I asked.
“Phire’s cousin?”
“Yeah. You know how to get in touch with her?” I was rambling through J.T.’s kitchen drawer again.
“Nah. You know I’on’ fuck wit’ that gutta bucket,” Monk contested.
“Well, look, I need some help. You remember when we were little and you used to try to teach me how to pick locks?”
“Girl, what choo up to?” Monk was laughing.
“Just walk me through it right quick, okay?” I responded without explaining to him what I was up to because I knew Monk and how quick his hair-trigger temper was. I was gathering the tools I needed for the job as I spoke.
“You at that mark J.T.’s house?” he asked curiously.
“Yeah, but he ain’t here right now,” I replied while heading back upstairs towards the office.
“I kinda figured he wasn’t there,” he said sarcastically. “J.T. gonna kick that ass for fuckin’ wit’ his shit, ’cause I know your sneaky ass is up to no good.” Monk was laughing again.
I was back at the office door in a matter of seconds, ready to receive instructions from my brother in Lock-Picking 101. I stuck the tiny tweezers in the lock and listened to Monk as he walked me through the process. After about fifty attempts to manipulate the lock I finally had the door open.
“Got it?” Monk asked, sounding a little frustrated with me because it had taken me so long.
“Yeah. Thanks lil
’
bruh. I’ll hit ya’ back.”
“Aiight. And Justice...be careful, ’cause I know you up to something,” Monk stated with genuine concern.
“I will be,” I told him and we ended the call as I stepped inside J.T.’s private office. As I looked around I noticed that this room was nothing special. There was a large oak desk in the center of the room with a computer which was repeating, “You’ve got mail.”
The only other item on the desk was a small CD player which sat next to the computer. A small, portable refrigerator sat in one corner and a burgundy lounge chair occupied the opposite side of the room. The walls were decorated with paintings of two older women whom I recognized as his mother and grandmother along with a family portrait of him and his mother when he was a young boy. There was a closet near the back of the room, so I walked over and tried the knob.
It was unlocked.
I twisted the knob and when the door was opened I saw a large safe. Just as I’d figured, this was where he kept his money. Why niggas don’t put their money in the bank is beyond me, especially if it was being made legitimately. The safe was one of those with a digital combination and it was locked. But a sistah had to try anyway.
After trying every combination of numbers under the sun, I finally gave up. I closed the closet back and walked over to the desk and started rambling through the drawers. I expected to find some sort of business material like payroll stubs or time sheets from his businesses; instead, I found a stack of photos. I flipped through the stack and noticed he had a lot of flicks of naked women in compromising positions.
“Freaky ass nigga,” I mumbled.
Halfway through the pile I saw three pictures of the bitch that had just left that nasty message on J.T.’s answering machine.
It was Joy!
She was sprawled out naked on a sofa that looked very much like the one that was downstairs in J.T.’s living room. In each of the photos she was being penetrated with a large dildo that was being held by someone else. As I took a closer look I saw the tattoo on the right wrist of the man who was screwing Joy with the toy.
It was J.T.’s hand!
Evidently he was the one who was taking the picture.
J.T. and Joy!?
I couldn’t believe it! At that instance, I thought about the time the condom had broken when J.T. and I were once having sex. I immediately became worried because there was no telling what I might’ve contracted if he was screwing all of those girls, especially Joy’s dirty ass.
I threw the photos onto the desk and stood up; ready to leave the room but another photo caught my eye. Beneath the stack of photos of women there were more photos of J.T. and his boys. On the back of the photos was J.T.’s handwriting, noting where the photos had been taken along with dates. He had pictures of himself with a few guys I’d seen only in passing, but I didn’t know any of them except Red until I got to the last few pictures, then I saw a
real
familiar face.
The final few photos had me stunned! I couldn’t believe who was in some of the pictures with J.T. and Red. I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me or maybe the dude just bared great resemblance to someone I knew. My mind was somersaulting as I flipped the photos over to see the names. The first one read The Turner Boys—Club Stir June 6th. The next was a photo of J.T. and the familiar looking guy by themselves. It read Me and lil’ cuz--R.I.P. July 3rd. I flipped the picture back over, stared at the face again, and knew without a doubt that the guy I was seeing was indeed someone I knew.
There were a few more pictures of J.T., the guy, and Red at different clubs in Charlotte, Atlanta, Miami, and D.C. and all of them bared the same label The Turner Boys—Fam’ 4 life!
I looked at the pictures again and noticed how much J.T. and this guy resembled and it dawned on me that these men were some kin. I dropped the photos to the desk and let out a loud sigh.
What in the hell is this man up to?
I questioned silently just as I seen what looked like a pamphlet inside the drawer where the photos had been.
I picked it up and stared at it. It was an obituary. The same familiar face on the obituary stared back at me as I read the name under the picture aloud, confirming my speculation, “Croshawn Cross Turner!”
What type of game is J.T. playing? First, he’d fucked with nasty ass Joy, then he hadn’t ever mentioned the fact that he knew Cross, let alone that they were family!
Thoughts swirled through my head like a cyclone and it made my temples throb.
I sat back in the large chair and closed my eyes while massaging my aching temples, then I began to think back to the day we’d found out about Cross’s murder. No wonder J.T. had almost ran off the road when I told him about Cross getting shot at Sapphire’s. He never meant to say “Ross”; he knew all along that I’d said it was “Cross.” And Joy!? That skinny ass barfly. Damn! This nigga was trifling as hell!
After not finding anything else in the office, I placed the photos back inside the drawer just as I’d found them with the girls on top of the pile. Then as I closed the drawer and headed for the door, I glanced back and took one last look at that closet where the safe was hidden. I stepped out of the room and made sure the door was locked before I headed back downstairs to the bedroom so I could think.
I plopped back down on the bed and started trying to put the pieces of this puzzle together. Joy’s message was playing in my head like a CD on repeat and I began to analyze her every word.
“I
wants
my money nigga,”
but money for what?
“Tell Lil’ Joe and Supreme and nem what
really
happened.”
What happened with what?
“If Justice and Monk knew the truth…”
What truth?
I thought long and hard, trying to decipher what she had been talking about as I lay back on the bed with a pillow over my face.
Joy, Red, J.T.? What the fuck did they do? And how does Cross fit into all this? Cross? Cross? Cross?
After about ten minutes of brainstorming I suddenly snatched the pillow away from my face and sat up on the bed as straight as a board. Finally, realization hit a bitch like a speeding Mack truck!
“OH, HELL NO! I
know
he didn’t do that shit!” I screamed as my voice echoed throughout the entire house.
“Cross, two more niggas, and a female did it, it wasn’t me.
” I heard my brother’s voice speaking in my head as if he was standing right next to me. Now I really believed him. Tears began welling up in my eyes and I commenced to cry for the two hundredth time in the span of a month. I thought about the crazy ass twist my life had just encountered. I hoped all of this shit was just me misconstruing things, but everything was starting to add up too perfectly.
I needed to call Monk to tell him what I thought was going on. I struggled with weak, wobbly knees to make it to the dresser where my cell phone was at. I reached for my phone and glanced down at the dresser where my tears were falling and noticed the jewelry box where J.T. kept his jewels when he wasn’t wearing them. I had never messed with his jewelry or any other personal items he’d ever left laying around, but something inside told me to open that box.
I lifted the lid off the wooden box and glanced at his platinum jewelry, which was sparkling with diamonds. His barrel link chain with the diamond encrusted J laid amongst his Patek Phillipe watch and platinum bracelet, along with a few other pieces I’d never seen him wear before.
I dialed Monk’s number as I continued to browse over all of the ice that was staring back at me. I listened to Monk’s phone ring and just as I was about to close the box my eyebrows wrinkled as one of the rings inside caught my attention. I picked it up and lay it in the palm of my hand.
“Well I’ll-be-damned,” I muttered as I looked at the diamond ring with ruby and onyx settings.
I picked through the rest of the jewelry and saw a custom-made Invicta watch with Lucky Charm diamonds in the band and two more custom made rings that I had only ever seen one other person floss before. I picked up the watch and the rings and inspected them to make sure I wasn’t trippin’. After looking over them, there was no doubt in my mind as to whom this jewelry belonged to. Just then, my brother answered his phone.
“What the bizness is? You finished wit’ yo’ lil’ B&E,” he joked.
I wiped my eyes and ran my hand under my nose as I sniffled, “M-Monk, I know who robbed Mark.”
“Fuck you mean you know who robbed Mark? Cross did that shit.”
“I meant, I know who else was with him,” I reported as I cried into the phone.
“Who?” Monk was sounding anxious and angry all at the same time.
“J.T., Red, and Joy.” Tears were now pouring.
“Where you hear that at? How you figure that?” he questioned skeptically.
I looked down at my hand and returned, “’Cause I’m lookin’ at Mark’s jewelry.”
Monk was quiet for a moment. The silence was awkward until I commenced to relate to him how I’d put it all together, starting with Joy’s message, and then with the pictures, and finally the jewelry.
“Give me directions! I’m on my way!” Monk was ready to come to my rescue but I stalled him. I thought about how J.T. had been playin’ me like a fool. I thought about how he had me thinking he wasn’t a street nigga while the whole time he had been knee deep in the game. I had to make this nigga feel me for trying to play me like that. I told my brother, “Don’t worry about J.T., I’ma take care of him.” “Nah, where you at Justice? Tell me where that nigga live.” I assured Monk that I’d be okay, but he was still ranting and raving as I disconnected the call. I should have let Monk touch that nigga a long time ago, but now I concluded that this would be one situation I would handle myself. I’d been used and this man had basically destroyed my life. My best friend was on her death bed; my brother and I were in hiding and running for our lives. All because of the man whose bed I’d been sharing for the past few weeks. A man I’d fallen head over heels for. J.T. had played me all the way out, but it was now my turn to play the game. And nobody plays the game better than a bitch that has been scorned!
