Street Chronicles Girls in the Game Page 6

  Of course, Tank would have other plans. He probably wanted to sex me all up and down this big house while he had the chance. We rarely had time to spend alone anymore. My schedule was always hectic, and Tank … well, his business kept him busy. There was no telling what could happen from one minute to the next, so anytime we got an opportunity to be together, we used it to the fullest. There were only a few people who even knew about our relationship, because we kept it private.

  Tank and I had been together for twenty years. We'd known each other since we were five. We grew up in Gilpin Court together, went to elementary, middle, and high school together. By the time we were fifteen, we decided to take our friendship to the next level. So, one summer night, behind the Calhoun Community Center, at the bottom of a steep hill, I lost my virginity to Tank. I believe we were in love way before then, but just didn't know it. However, that night, for sure, we fell in love. To commemorate our big night, Tank engraved, Tank loves Renée 4 ever, 4 always on the big tree we lay under after having sex for the very first time.

  As we got older, Tank became more and more drawn to street life, while I, on the other hand, took a different path. In the evenings after school I worked for Gilpin Court's RRHA office doing menial work, filing, answering phones, etc. By the time I graduated from high school and went away to college at Old Dominion University, Tank and I were serious. Sure, Tank had his freaks on the side, doing whatever while I was away, but I made sure that when he came to visit me on the weekends, I served him up hard enough so those freaks’ jobs wouldn't be easy. I realize it was all part of his image, but I caught on quick in the bedroom and made sure Tank was and continued to be satisfied. So those tricks he dealt with while I was away were just a technicality, giving Tank something to do while I was getting my education.

  During summer vacations I worked at the RRHA office while Tank was in the streets making a name for himself. When I graduated from ODU in 1991, RRHA offered me a job as a specialist approving Section Eight applications at their main office on Chamberlayne Parkway. I had access to all records pertaining to the different housing projects. I worked my way through several other positions with RRHA; then in 2000 I was promoted to executive director. See, Tank had a vision. When he first mentioned it, I thought he was crazy.

  “Renée, what would you do if I told you you held the key to our future?” Of course, at the time I had no idea what Tank meant.

  “You approve those Section Eight applications, right?”

  “Yeah, so what?”

  “Look, what if I was to send some females to you that needed an application approved for a specific housing project; could you hook it up?” By now, I'm pissed, assuming Tank is talking about one of his tricks. I give him the I-can't-believe-you-parted-your-lips-to-ask-me-that look.

  “It's not what you think, baby. See, all my boys, they on the come-up right now. But I hate that they have to be out there on the corners without safety. I figure if I send you some of their girlfriends, get them set up in a project nearby where they do their slinging, shit, I'll have the projects on lock in no time.”

  The first thing that came to mind was that I would be risking my job. But once Tank put it all in perspective, it all made sense.

  “Renée, nothing illegal—all these broads need a place to stay anyway; may as well set them up where they can be the most use,” Tank said.

  See, Tank had a vision. He knew that he wanted to be the sole drug supplier for all of the housing projects in Richmond. With me as his eyes into each project community, I could make sure that certain Section Eight applications were filled first, and that the applicants always stayed up-to-date on inspections and so forth. By the time I was promoted, Tank's heroin business was booming; plus he'd even opened a restaurant and bar to make everything look legit, all thanks to his “plan.”

  So really, we had always been a team. But because of the nature of the business he was in and the nature of the business I was in, we had to keep everything private. Every now and then I might run into someone from our old neighborhood who asked what was up with Tank. Since Tank was into the street life, he was more visible on that scene. The people I came in contact with on a daily basis had no idea that I was even affiliated with someone as treacherous as Tank. So on a business level our worlds were separate, but on a personal level we shared one world. Sometimes I would feel sad because I couldn't flaunt our relationship around others. But I know how hard it is to find a good man, and Tank was always good to me. Always kept me in a nice ride—all rimmed up, of course—bought me diamonds on the regular, and the shopping sprees to Tyson's Corner … well, let's just say he always spent at least ten grand each time. Material things can't define love, but I knew Tank loved me because of the future we planned to have together. I was also very proud of Tank for all that he had accomplished. He was a street-sawy, intelligent brother. No, he hadn't gone to college and gotten a degree on paper, but he was able to get out of the projects and open his own business. He was equally proud of me for all I had accomplished, so together we made a great team.

  When Tank came in, his cream-colored linen pants were muddy, full of blood, and his matching linen shirt was full of sweat.

  “You okay, baby?” I asked, concerned.

  “Yeah, I'm a'ight,” he said, looking at the trail of mud he was making with his messy pants.

  He walked over to the restaurant-size stainless-steel double sink and washed his hands. He had sweat all over his bronze-colored body, so much that his linen outfit clung to him. Even with sweat dripping from his bald head, he still looked sexy. He removed his shirt to display his six-pack abs. I walked over to him and wrapped my arms around him and laid my head on his back. He turned off the water, but didn't turn around to face me. Though it bothered me a little when Tank had to wipe someone out, I understood, especially when it was someone who threatened to destroy all he had built over the years.

  See, I realized that one day, when Tank got tired of running the drug business, he would put all of his eggs in one basket, concentrate on legit businesses, and we would settle down and have a real family together, kids and all. Dealing with him wasn't easy, because there were so many crooks out there pretending to be his friend, yet stabbing him in the back at the same time. Not to mention the women who practically threw themselves at him. I needed to help protect him, at least until he was able to make that all-important transition from the drug game to a totally legitimate way of living.

  “Hey, what's wrong?” I asked him softly, almost in a whisper.

  He looked at me with his almond-shaped eyes and full, juicy lips and said, “I have a problem.”

  “What is it?”

  He pulled away, unbuttoned his pants, and let them drop to the marble-tiled floor. Grabbing my hand, he wanted me to follow him. He was wearing nothing but his Kenneth Cole boxers. We walked through the kitchen to the family room, which was furnished with leather furniture, a plasma TV, and a custom-built pool table. He sat on the oversize sofa and pulled me onto his lap.

  “I need you to do something for me,” he said, looking me in the eyes.

  “Of course, anything, baby,” I said, rubbing my hand down his face.

  “One of my connects told me the police are out to get me. They came over to the restaurant and started asking me a lot of questions about Li'l John's disappearance, but I thought that was all they wanted. Apparently they're trying to get enough information to put a murder case on me.”

  “But Li'l John was classified as missing, right? What makes them think he was murdered?”

  “Li'l John's friend Skeet was pulled up on a conspiracy-to-distribute charge and started telling the police that he could give them info on a murder if they would reduce his charges. He started running off at the mouth, saying he saw Li'l John the same day he went missing, and Li'l John told Skeet that I was after him.”

  “But I thought Li'l John didn't have any idea you were onto him?” I asked.

  “Yeah, me too. This shit is fucked up. I'v
e been getting away for so long, handling my business without getting dirty. Now this!” Tank snapped.

  “Well, what is it you want me to do?” I asked.

  Tank took my hand into his. “Before I ask you, promise me you'll think about it first, before you give me an answer.”

  “Come on, Tank, what is it?”

  Tank sighed heavily, then grabbed both of my hands. I had no idea what he wanted me to do, but I was willing to do whatever it took to keep my man out of trouble.

  “You know that new commonwealth's attorney? That young nigga?” he said.

  “Christian Hall is his name, I think. I don't know him personally, but I've been in his presence at a couple of city functions.”

  “I need you to get to him.”

  “Get to him and do what?” Now Tank had totally confused me.

  “Baby, I need you to hook up with him, you know, get in his head and shit. I want you to make him want you bad enough to do anything you ask.”

  I jumped up. I couldn't believe he would have the nerve to ask me to do something this crazy.

  “Tank, what the fuck?”

  “I know it sounds crazy, but hear me out. This nigga is young, and word on the street is, he's single. I've been in the locker room at the gym with him a couple of times, and the motherfucker is cocky as shit. Niggas like him can be pussy-whipped in no time.”

  “Wait a minute, you want me to fuck him, too? Oh, hell, no! This shit is crazy!” I said, throwing my arms up as I began pacing back and forth.

  “Baby, listen, just think about it. He's gonna think he hit the jackpot with you. You're beautiful, smart, plus you have a prominent position with RRHA. You two can go to different functions together, you know, start to become a couple. Throw the pussy on him and he's gonna be down for you. Get him to trust you—trust you enough that you have access to his office and his home. That's when it's gonna get grimy. We're gonna set his ass up, you know, blackmail him. Then, the only way he'll come out of it clean is to get my case thrown out.”

  I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Not only was he asking me to cheat on him, but he wanted me to get involved with blackmailing a city official. I didn't know if I could go through with something like that. I mean, I knew what I did at work was wrong, but there was no way to tie me to any type of illegal activity based on the information I gave to Tank. Forcing approvals on Section Eight applications is one thing, but this?

  “Renée, look, I need you to do this. Can't you understand? If you don't do this for me, I could go to prison for murder. They might try to tie me to some other crimes, too.” Tank rubbed his hand across his brow, wiping the sweat.

  “Look at everything we've built. Think about our future that we've been working so hard to build, which is only around the corner. It's only a matter of time before I give this street shit up and we move on with our plans to get married and have us some kids. If I go to jail now over some bullshit, all that'll be ruined.”

  I stared at Tank and could see his eyes begin to water. I knew it was hard for him to ask me to do such a thing. Even harder for him to think about me doing it—he would probably regret having me do this later on, but right now it looked like the only way out. Tank was the only man I'd ever been with, and he had taught me well. After being together for twenty years, I'd learned a lot and done it all, but only because Tank had been my one and only. Now he wanted me to give myself to a stranger—for a good reason, I knew, but still, I just couldn't imagine being with someone other than Tank. Even when Tank allowed those chickenheads to entice him, I always stayed true, because that was how deep my love was for him.

  “Please?” he begged.

  I sighed heavily.

  “But, Tank, what if I can't pull this off? I mean, he might be a faggot or something,” I said with doubt.

  “Renée, come on now,” he said in a reassuring tone.

  “I'm serious. How is this shit going to work, Tank? I'll just force myself on him and he's going to go for me? Just like that?” I threw up my hands and rolled my eyes.

  “You're smart and you know how to play the game. I wouldn't ask you to do this if I didn't have faith in you. Think about it, Renée. If you don't do this, they could put me under for a long, long time. No wedding, no kids—nothing for us.

  “We will finally be able to put our relationship out in the open when I become legit. All them niggas and tricks will know about us, baby. Just you and me against the motherfuckin’ world! Do you wanna mess all that up when you have the opportunity right now to straighten it?”

  I guess he's right, I thought. Even if he wasn't right, he was not going to give up until I said I'd do it anyway.

  “Okay. I'll do it,” I said in surrender.

  Tank planted his lips on mine, then hugged me tightly. My body language told him that I was still unsure whether I was making the right decision. He kissed me on my neck and started to tease my breasts. I turned to face him, straddling his body with mine. Now he had one hand between my legs and the other in my shirt. I moaned as he played with each nipple, while at the same time hitting my spot. His manhood was standing at attention right between us, so I pulled it through the opening of his boxers and stroked it with my hands, meeting Tank's tongue with mine. He had me feeling so wet that I got down on my knees and took him into my mouth, working it like there were no more lollipops left in the city of Richmond. His back stiffened. I began workin’ it faster, making him moan. Before he had the chance to explode, I jumped on top of it and rode him, taking every inch until he came. Both of our bodies went limp and we just held each other, breathing hard. I knew at that moment, with everything in me, that no matter what, I had to do whatever it took to keep my man out of prison.

  Iran out of my office on Chamberlayne Parkway and hopped into my recent birthday gift from Tank, a black 2006 C-Class Mercedes. I was trying to beat the five-o'clock rush-hour traffic and head over to American Family Fitness on Brook Road. I decided to drive through the city instead of getting on the interstate, because I knew 1-95 would be bumper-to-bumper. This was the day I would make my move on Mr. Hall. I was nervous. All kinds of shit that might fuck things up kept running through my head. What if I wasn't his type? His square-looking ass was probably gay, or maybe he didn't even like sisters.

  I knew I had it going on as a sistah. I worked out about four times a week, one hour a day. I had a body like Angela Bassett's in What's Love Got to Do with It. My caramel skin was flawless, smooth like silk, and my hair was natural, no weaves there. I never needed one, since my half—Native American father, the same one who abandoned me when I was six, blessed me with his coal-black, naturally wavy hair. I inherited everything else from my mother, who raised me and my two brothers all by herself in the projects. My mother, a thick, chocolate sister with lots of street savvy and spunk, was always weak when it came to a good-looking brotha with pretty hair. So, after knowing my father only two months, she became pregnant with me; then two years later she had my twin brothers. Soon after the twins were born she married my father. Realizing that fatherhood wasn't for him, he split. He moved to New York, leaving her a single mother of a six-year-old and two four-year-olds. So we headed to the projects.

  After I pulled into the parking lot of American Family Fitness, I made my way inside the gym and headed toward the locker room to change clothes, all the while keeping my eyes open for Mr. Christian Hall, the man I planned to pussy-whip for a good cause.

  Soon after changing into my red sports bra and shorts, I walked through the weight-lifting area and spotted him. I'd seen him a couple of times at recent functions, but I didn't realize the brotha was so damn fine. He had a Boris Kodjoe thing going on for sure, body and all. I hoped Tank knew what he was doing, planning this hookup with Chris.

  I had to get one of the other fellas to stare at me so that Chris could follow suit. I bent over to tie my shoe, which I left untied on purpose so that I could give the guys a sneak peek at my thirty-six Ds.

  “Damn, shorty!” some dude on
the weight bench said. His male radar kicking in, Chris turned around and stared at me just as I stood back up from tying my shoe. I rolled my eyes and sucked my teeth at the punk on the weight bench, while trying not to notice Chris. I grabbed a couple of ten-pound barbells, then sat at an empty weight bench. I could feel Chris staring a hole through the back of my head, but I kept my composure. My cell phone rang (actually, I had set the alarm to go off). I answered it and carried on a fake conversation, knowing that there was no one on the other end.

  “Hello?” I said. “No, it's no problem, Angela. What is it?”

  I paused as if I were really listening to someone on the other end.

  “No, I specifically told Mr. Williams that the proposal needed to be revised,” I continued. “If the budget is not in compliance with the City of Richmond, then we will have to forfeit the entire agreement. Tell him I need the revision no later than nine a.m. tomorrow. Call me if you have any problems.”

  I closed my flip phone and laid it on the bench beside me. Before I could even begin my workout routine, Chris walked over to me.

  “Excuse me, I'm Christian Hall, Richmond's newest commonwealth's attorney,” he boasted. He then held out his hand. I shook it, staring at him like he was a terrible imposition.

  “Okay, and … ?” I said, eyes wide.

  “Well, when I heard you say something about being in compliance with the City of Richmond, I immediately felt obligated to jump in to assist, since I have so many connections in the city.”

  “Did I ask for your assistance, Mr. Hall?” I asked. Tank had warned me of his cockiness, which was being proven by the way he approached me and introduced himself. What a jerk.

  “No offense, miss. I swear, I didn't mean to offend you. I just thought I could help.”

  “You and every guy in here, I'm sure,” I said sarcastically.