“Nah, she’s pissed at me so it’ll be at least a day or two before I see her again. Besides, if she do come back and find my dick jammed in this bitch’s throat she can either join in or wait her turn,” Cowboy said like he was the man.
“You need to stop hoarding the pussy and share,” Cos joked.
“And what you need to do is get yourself some game so you can get your own bitches. Cowboy is a one man show. Now, y’all niggaz get the fuck outta my pad so I can handle my business.”
Everyone laughed except Duce. Though he and Cowboy didn’t know each other very well, he couldn’t stand the man. He was loud, arrogant and sneaky. If it had been up to him, he would’ve just popped him and been done with it, but he knew he couldn’t carry it like that. If he made a move against Cowboy he’d have to move on the whole crew. If it came down to it, he wouldn’t lose any sleep over killing Thor, but Cos was his man. And when he did get at Cowboy what would Frankie do? Would she seek revenge for her murdered lover or would she thank Duce for freeing her?
FIFTEEN
When Duce, Cos and Thor got outside, it had started snowing again. The temperature had dropped but it was nowhere near as cold as it could’ve been for December. Cos and Thor got in the Honda while Duce walked down Lenox to where his Eddie Bauer was parked. He had his hands tucked deep into the pockets of his coat, fingering his pistol. There was something about committing mass murder that put him on edge.
It was a short walk to 141st street where his truck was parked, but the slick snow made it a pain in the ass. He bleeped his alarm and jumped behind the wheel, glad to be out of the element. Duce put his key in the ignition and the truck roared to life. He had just put the truck in drive when he felt something cold against the back of his neck. He glanced up at the rear view mirror and could see Frankie’s fierce brown eyes staring back at him. When he opened his mouth, she pressed the gun deeper into his neck.
“Shut the fuck up and drive,” she hissed. Duce nodded and pulled into traffic.
Cos and Thor cruised through the silent night in the Honda. The sounds of The Isley Brother’s Between the Sheets played softly through speakers, while Cos hummed along. He was a stickler for the oldies. Thor sat beside him bobbing his head. He was more into rap music but like with most savage beasts, the music soothed him. He was squirming in the passenger seat trying to get comfortable. Even though he had the seat pushed back as far as it would go, his legs still felt cramped. He cursed under his breath, wishing for the hundredth time that he hadn’t left his truck at home.
“Cos, when are you gonna get rid of this tiny ass car?” Thor asked.
“When you buy me another one,” Cos shot back. “I’ve had this car for years and it’s always held me down. It’s a good ride.”
“Yeah, if you’re a fucking circus midget,” Thor teased him. “Say, what you think about Duce?” he changed the subject.
“I think the young boy handled himself pretty well for it to be his first job,” Cos said.
“That’s just it. He handled himself a little too well.”
Cos cut his eyes at the big man. “Why are you so fucking paranoid?”
“You can never be too careful, Cos. Look at what happened to Ace.” Ace was a dude that they both knew from around the neighborhood. He was getting money on the streets until he gave his cousin a job. Six months later when the Feds rushed his spot, he discovered that his cousin had been a Confidential Informant.
“Thor, you’re bugging. Duce ain’t no rat.”
“I ain’t saying he’s a rat Cos, but there’s more to that kid than he’s telling. He gunned that dude down without batting an eye.”
“Well, he was locked up for a body so I know he ain’t no stranger to murder,” Cos informed him.
“Speaking of which, did he ever tell you what went down with that? How the fuck does a nigga go down for a body and come home in five?”
“I felt a little funny about it too, so I had him checked out. His government name is Melvin Bernard.”
“Bernard,” Thor scratched his head trying to figure why he felt a chill at hearing the name. “Why does that name sound so familiar?”
“Maybe you fucked his girl,” Cos joked. “From what I read in his jacket, he blew trial on a double murder and the judge gave him the long walk. A lot of niggaz scream that they’re innocent in the pen, but there was something in his eyes that almost made me believe him. Son fired his trial lawyer and handed over every penny he had to that slick talking Israeli cat who got that rapping nigga outta that rape shit. The odds of him getting the conviction overturned was so slim that I made him show me the original copies of his paperwork before I even agreed to talk any business with him. It reads just like he’s giving it up, he’s good.”
“Well, I ain’t so sure and I’m gonna keep my eyes on that sneaky mutha fucka.”
“Thor, let that boy alone. He saved our asses in there; I think he’s proven himself.”
“Not to me, Costello. The average mutha fucka just moves off survival instinct in a gunfight, but home boy was on some real Matrix shit, so that means he’s a pro and if he’s a pro then why haven’t we ever heard of him? I’m telling you, this shit is like trying to stuff triangles into squared holes.”
“Whatever, nigga,” Cos waved him off. “You need to get your mind off Duce and on this heist we’re gonna pull on Christmas Eve. This will be our biggest score ever!”
“You think there’s gonna be as much cake as Cowboy says?” Thor asked.
“More than likely. Cowboy does his homework on regular jobs, so I know he’s checked this front, back and sideways. Even if it’s close to a half mil, we’ll be straight for a while. Say, what’re you gonna do with your portion of the money?”
“Buy your ass a bigger car!” Thor laughed.
Frankie directed him down Lenox Avenue to 132nd where he made a left. They continued another three blocks until they reached Park Avenue and hung a right. Frankie told Duce to pull the truck under the L and kill the engine. For a long while there was complete silence. Duce thought about saying something, but the fact that she still had the gun pressed against his neck deterred him. Finally, Frankie moved back and allowed him to let go of the breath that he hadn’t even realized he was holding.
“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t smoke yo creep ass,” Frankie hissed. Her voice was cold, far colder than he remembered.
“Frankie, if you’d just put the gun down we could talk about this.”
“Talk,” she cocked the hammer back with her thumb. “I ain’t heard a fucking word from you in five years and now you wanna communicate? Nigga, you gotta come better than that.”
“It ain’t what it looks like,” he said, trying to remain as still as possible. Ninety eight percent of the time a woman scorned plus a gun equaled a dead man and he had no interest in becoming a statistic.
“Derrick, let’s not even talk about what it looks like, because if my mind and my heart take me there, as sure as my ass is black you’re a dead man,” she said seriously. “How and what the fuck are you doing here?”
“You want me to answer the questions in that order, or just wing it?” he said, trying to be cute.
“I’m the one with the gun, so I’m asking the questions,” she reminded him.
“Looks like we’ve got ourselves a Mexican stand off,” he motioned downward. Frankie hadn’t noticed it, but Duce had managed to slip his gun from his pocket at some point and had it pointed at her lower body.
“Sneaky son of a bitch,” she said, tucking her pistol back into her overnight bag.