Forever a Hustler's Wife Read online

  “You never know.” She looked away and started to cry. “You just never know.”

  He hugged her and wiped her tears before forcing her to look into his eyes. “Everything is going to be okay,” he said firmly, holding her gently by the shoulders.

  “You can’t guarantee it,” she said, sniffling.

  He sighed deeply, having second thoughts about leaving her and the baby, but he knew he had to. “Baby, listen to me.” He dabbed more tears from her cheeks. “Listen to me,” he repeated in a more tender voice. “We have a child and have been together for how many years? Baby girl, we’re connected forever. I’m willing to do anything that I have to do to make sure that our daughter has all the finer things that life has to offer her.”

  Yarni knew in her heart what Des wanted for his child, but she also knew that he was going to go handle his business no matter what she had to say. She didn’t want to argue at the hospital, and, quite honestly, she didn’t have the strength. Now she understood why they called it labor—she had worked her butt off bringing their baby into the world—and she didn’t regret a minute of it. So she just sucked it up and said, “Do whatever you have to do. We’ll be here when you get finished. Go handle your business.” Then she added, “Just be safe.”

  Des knew her words were only halfheartedly spoken. “You sure?” he asked.

  She nodded, and then they both heard a knock at the door.

  The nurse peeked her head in the door and said, “Your brother, Rico, is outside. He said he’s the baby’s godfather. Should I let him in?”

  “Definitely,” Des instructed the nurse.

  Yarni dried any trace of her tears away and tried to get herself together as Rico entered the room bearing gifts.

  “There’s nowhere for me to set these,” Rico said, amazed at all of the flowers and balloons that Yarni had already received.

  “Hey, Rico,” Yarni said. “You trying to spoil your goddaughter like that already?” she asked, looking at the armload of presents.

  “This ain’t nothing,” Rico said as he walked over and gave Yarni a kiss on the forehead. “This is just all I could carry in. The rest is in the car.” Now that opportunity had knocked, Rico opened the door wide and walked through it. “Yo, Des, man. Come help me bring in all the rest of the stuff.”

  Knowing that Rico wanted to use that time to school him on the situation that needed to be handled, Des agreed. “No problem,” Des said to Rico before turning to Yarni’s side. “You’ll be all right for a minute?”

  “Considering that pretty soon here I’m going to have to be all right for more than a minute, I guess I can handle it,” Yarni said sarcastically.

  Des kissed her on the cheek and said, “I love you.” Then he followed Rico out of the hospital room.

  As Des walked through the long corridors of the hospital, he realized that although his wife and daughter had very private quarters, the rest of the place looked like the scene from The Godfather when Don Corleone’s daughter got married and everyone who was anyone showed up to pay their respects to the don and to ask for favors. Even the maternity floor had players and ballers standing in the hallways making deals on their cell phones, which they weren’t supposed to be using, as they waited for their ride-or-die bitches to give birth to the next generation of thugs. If the Feds wanted a who’s-who list of all the high-profile drug purveyors in Virginia, as well as some on an international level, the hospital was the place to be. In the lobby he saw mothers wearing two-and three-carat diamond earrings and tennis bracelets, waiting to hear if their drug-dealing sons would survive knife wounds, gunshots, or old-fashioned beatings. Girlfriends were there with teddy bears and flowers, hoping to be the first thing their men saw when they came out of surgery, and a few devoted junkies skulked around praying their favorite dealer wouldn’t die.

  Des and Rico had walked outside to find a place to talk without all the intruding ears, when Des saw his nephew, Nasir, coming toward the entrance. “So you decided to show up, I see,” Des chided Nasir, the teenage son of Des’s deceased older brother, Les. Des loved Nasir like a son.

  “Wouldna missed it for all the dope in Afghanistan, Uncle Des,” Nasir said, smiling.

  “Go check on your aunt Yarni and your new cousin, Desi,” Des shot back. “Your uncle Rico and I got something we need to discuss in the car.”

  “Sure, Uncle Des. Peace, Uncle Rico.”

  “Wa ’Alaykum As-Salām, young Nasir,” Rico returned the greeting.

  As they walked, they slowed their pace. “I’m sorry to ’ve had to bother you on such an auspicious occasion,” Rico expressed, “but I’m in trouble, and I need your professional help and expertise.”

  “Tell me what you need me to do,” Des said. “Or, shall I say, who you need me to do?”

  “You know me too well, brotha,” Rico said, sighing. “Too well.”

  “The feeling is mutual,” Des responded.

  “Enough of the small talk, though,” Rico said. “Let’s get down to business. His name is Jarbo Classettes.” Rico pulled out a picture and handed it to Des.

  “I’ve heard of him,” Des acknowledged. “Don’t he work for you?”

  “He did…well, he thinks he still does—”

  “But?” Des cut in.

  “But I don’t like the company he’s been keeping these days.”

  “Such as?” Des inquired.

  “Such as the police.”

  “I see,” Des said. “And what brought this unsavory relationship about?”

  “He got tore off with twenty keys of soft white and decided he’d rather be an informer than an inmate. I got an inside tip that says he’s supposed to meet with the grand jury the first session of next month to give a deposition.” Rico looked at Des for his reaction.

  “So I got eighteen days to eliminate this…problem,” Des calculated. “Where is he staying?”

  “Saratoga Springs, New York,” Rico answered, “with a stripper named Twinkle.”

  CHAPTER 3

  The Two-Step Viper

  Des arrived in Saratoga Springs, New York, twelve hours after his conversation with Rico. Following almost nineteen hours with Yarni while she was in labor, until finally the doctor decided to do a cesarean. He was dog-tired, but he decided to go ahead and make the drive without resting. He didn’t fly because he didn’t want his name in the airline system, so he had hopped into his seven series BMW without so much as yawning. But after a couple of hours on the highway, he struggled to keep his eyes open. He even had to pull over to the side of the road to get a cup of coffee, which wasn’t something Des typically drank.

  Whether he had the coffee to thank or not, Des didn’t fall asleep. He made it, without incident, to his destination. As he was about to pull into the parking lot of the hotel he chose to stay in, he saw a black-on-black Aston Martin complete with oversized rims speeding by. The driver had the music turned up as he passed Des, heading down Broadway, the main drag in town.

  With the exception of the month of August, when the horse races were going on, Saratoga Springs was a real down-low kind of town. During the other eleven months, the town was populated by wealthy people with a lot of old money. Since it was February, that Aston Martin cruising down the strip was out of the ordinary. Des’s gut told him that the car’s owner came from new money, and he strongly believed the car was very likely one of the dots to connect him to his mark, Jarbo. On a hunch, Des followed the Aston Martin. Ten miles later they arrived at a luxurious resort. He laid back, parked, and watched as a female driver exited the car in front of valet parking. She wore a nearly see-through shirt and a small skirt that showed off her long legs. She definitely looked as if she could have been the stripper accompanying Jarbo up here, Des thought.

  “How long will you be?” the valet asked her, trying desperately to keep his eyes focused on her face instead of her double-d chest size. It was amazing what a little wind making its way through a chiffon top could do to a girl’s nipples.

  “
Ummm, I’m not sure,” she said, almost as if she were talking to herself. “Maybe I’ll go back out shopping while he goes to the sauna, or maybe I’ll have a massage.” She turned to the valet. “I’m not certain. Keep it close, an outside spot.” She winked, then waited while the valet grabbed the bags out of her car and handed them to her after she surrendered her keys to him.

  “Nice car. How does it ride?” Des asked as he walked around the Aston Martin.

  “It’s actually my boyfriend’s,” she replied, watching Des admire the car. “But I think he really got it for me.” She threw her long hair over her shoulder. “He has plenty of other cars—the Maybach, a Maserati. I drive this one all the time, and, as they say, possession is nine-tenths of the law.” She smiled, but Des acted as if he wasn’t paying her any attention. He stayed focused on the car. “But yeah, I like it.” She nodded. “I like it a lot.”

  “Really?” Des said, pretending to be impressed. “A Maybach, huh? What color Maybach could possibly compete with the color of your eyes?” he asked, laying it on thick, figuring she was the type who would run her mouth after receiving a compliment.

  “Oh, thank you. It’s burgundy,” she announced proudly.

  “The burgundy joint may give you a run for your money. I don’t know,” he teased. “How long has he had this?” He pointed to the Aston Martin.

  “Ummm…” She rolled her eyes upward as if trying hard to find the answer in her airhead. “He had it like nine or ten months, but I’ve been driving it like eight months. Like I said, possession is nine-tenths of the law.”

  “He must really love you to let you drive such an expensive car, huh?” Des assured her, making her feel special.

  “You think?” She smiled, loving what her ears were hearing. “He does tell me that I’m the twinkle of his eye. That’s what he calls me, you know—Twinkle.”

  After she unknowingly confirmed the details that Des needed, Des knew what he had to do. He checked into the hotel under an alias so that he could get a better read on his mark.

  Later that night, Des followed Jarbo and Twinkle to the bar, where he copped a seat nearby so he could keep tabs on them.

  Jarbo’s cell phone rang. “Hold on, baby,” he said to Twinkle as he took the call.

  Des, who was casually sitting with his back toward Jarbo and Twinkle, listened to Jarbo carry on his business transaction over the cell phone. For the next couple of days, Des watched Jarbo as he made his moves and, in the process, Des even saw him meet with a police officer. Jarbo was so carefree in the little town that he never noticed Des watching him.

  After a week of studying Jarbo’s routine, Des put his plan into motion. He first packed up his things so that he could check out of his hotel room quickly when he was done. He then went to the hotel gift shop and purchased a bottle of hotel springwater before heading to the sauna. Upon entering the room, he picked up the business section of the newspaper someone had left behind, took a seat on the wooden bench, and read the newspaper. Des patiently waited for Jarbo to make his daily trip to the sauna with his bottle of hotel-issued springwater in hand, the same thing he did every day at 1:00 P.M. sharp, right after having lunch with Twinkle at the hotel’s five-star buffet.

  Jarbo picked up the part of the paper that Des wasn’t reading and made himself comfortable on the wooden bench about two feet away from Des. Once the heat came up, they both put down their papers, and Jarbo began talking Des’s head off.

  “We don’t see too many brothers around these parts much. Where are you from?” Jarbo asked, without looking up at Des. Jarbo twisted the cap off his water bottle and took a long, thirsty sip. It was as if he had been contemplating whether or not to make the comment.

  “I peeped that.” Des nodded as he sat and appreciated the relaxing effects of the sauna. “I’m from North Carolina.”

  “You here on vacation?” Jarbo asked.

  Des followed suit, twisting the cap off his own water bottle and putting it to his lips. “Well, my wife has a convention for her job not too far from here, so she suggested we stay here to get some quality time in.” Des turned the tables. “And you? You here on vacation?”

  “No, not at all,” Jarbo said, laughing. “I’ve been here for about a month. Just laying low from the hustle and bustle of the city.” He placed his water down between himself and Des.

  Des shook his head and replied, “Must be nice. What do you do for a living that you can take off a whole month?”

  “I own a few lucrative businesses.” This time Jarbo turned the tables. “And you?”

  “I’m a repetologist,” Des said proudly.

  “Really?” Jarbo sounded interested. “Damn, man, I ain’t never met no brother who was into reptiles before.” The heat was starting to relax him. Jarbo put a towel over his head to help clear his sinuses. Des smiled and leaned back on the bench.

  “I never met a brother who owned a bunch of lucrative businesses.” Des quickly took his water bottle and placed it down next to Jarbo’s. He immediately picked Jarbo’s up. Just as he had it in hand, Jarbo spoke. “What are you doing?”

  Des was caught red-handed.

  “Huh?” Des said, with a hint of nervousness.

  “What are you doing now? What are you studying?” Jarbo’s words were muffled, coming from underneath the towel.

  “Studying?” Des echoed, almost losing his cool.

  “Yes, for work. What is your latest study?”

  “Before I came here I was studying this incredible venomous snake out of Africa,” Des said. “The two-step viper.”

  “Oh yeah?” Jarbo said as he sat up, removed his head cover, and took a sip from his water bottle.

  “Yeah,” Des said.

  “Sounds interesting.” Jarbo took another gulp of water.

  “Yeah, well, I guess it’s not your everyday work thing.” Des shrugged his shoulders as if he could take it or leave it.

  “So, what about those Pistons?” Jarbo said, switching the subject. He could sense that Des didn’t really feel like talking about his job.

  Before Des could even respond to Jarbo’s last question, the three drops of the two-step viper poison Jarbo had just drunk took effect, sending him into cardiac arrest. Within thirty seconds he fell over in the sauna and was dead. Des picked up the water bottle, stood, and walked out.

  He checked out of his hotel room and headed back down I-95 to go be with his daughter and wife. When he stopped to get gas in Maryland, he called Yarni to let her know he was on his way. As he heard their daughter cry in the background, he became even more anxious to see her. Looking at the line of cars the gas station clerk was dealing with, he decided he wanted to get back to his family as soon as possible, so he paid at the pump with his credit card and continued his conversation with his wife. He talked to her on and off the entire drive home, even asking her to put the phone up to the baby’s ear so that Desi could hear her daddy tell her how much he loved her.

  Once Des read the WELCOME TO VIRGINIA sign, he was overcome with emotion. It was a feeling that had been foreign to him for quite some time. He had been in the game for as long as he could remember. Hell, even a jail sentence doesn’t truly remove you from it. Sometimes in the game lives were lost; sometimes they had to be taken. But it wasn’t until that moment that Des confronted the act he had just committed.

  He was less than an hour away from his family, a family he was bound and determined to do right by. He had always considered Yarni his wife, even before it was on paper. Even then she was his wife in his heart. But something was different now that it was by God’s will and not man’s flesh. And now there was another life involved, that of little Desi. Des did something he had never done before, probably because he had never before had to acknowledge that he was responsible for the precious lives of others. He made a covenant with himself that things were going to change…and for the better.

  As Des pulled into the gated community where he lived with his wife, he waited for the gate to open, but for some re
ason it stalled. Before he knew it, police swarmed him and the car. They had him surrounded, with their guns drawn.

  “Step out of the car,” he heard an officer yell through a bullhorn.

  Des was shocked and confused. He knew that he had planned Jarbo’s murder down to the last minor detail and had been very meticulous about it. He had taken the water bottle with the poison in it and thrown it over the bridge, and had wiped the other water bottle off. He destroyed and burned all of the evidence, down to the newspaper he shared with Jarbo. There was absolutely nothing that could have led the police back to him.

  “Out of the car with both hands up, now,” the voice shouted through the bullhorn again, angrier and louder this time. Des had no choice but to step out of the car with both of his hands raised.

  Knowing good and well that they had Des cornered, Detective Columbo did the honors. He limped over toward Des’s car, swaying his huge butt. He slapped the cuffs on Des’s wrists. With a big smile, he looked in Des’s eyes and said, “Desmond Lamont Taylor, you are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent…”

  Desmond glared back into Detective Columbo’s eyes, and replied, “Anything you say can and will be held against you. You have the right to an attorney…”

  Des smiled as Detective Columbo finished reciting the rest of his Miranda rights on his own, and then asked, “For what?” Des refused to believe that he had left a trail that connected him to Jarbo.

  “For murder,” Columbo replied. “The murder of Mike Richards.”

  “Who?”

  “Mr. Richards. Don’t play stupid. He was your attorney.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Why the fuck would I waste my time with that clown?” Des exclaimed.

  After Des had gotten out of jail, he wasn’t salty at all against his old attorney. He knew that Richards would have his day at some point, but Des wouldn’t be the one to give it to him.

  Detective Columbo put Des in the backseat of a police cruiser and then climbed in after him. “Desmond, I haven’t seen you in over a decade, and when I do, let’s just say it’s a good day.” Columbo, a huge smile on his face, folded his arms and rested them on his protruding belly. “I tell you. You give me a big prize.”