Forever a Hustler's Wife Read online

  “I ain’t feeling that fo’ you.”

  “It ain’t for me. It’s for Lava.”

  Des glanced out the window at Lava, who was putting on lip gloss, using the rearview mirror. “Is that what she wants?”

  “No, that’s what I want her to have. Let her tell it, she don’t want no car.”

  Des was surprised. “She don’t want a whip? I never ran across a woman who didn’t want a car.”

  “That’s because you never met a chick like Lava before. She’d rather ride and drive my shit than have her own. She feels like since we together all the time, ain’t no need in wasting money.” Nasir’s phone vibrated again, and once again he silenced it.

  Des smiled. “A woman after my own heart.”

  “I want to bless her with something fly.”

  “What about a red one? I got a red one.”

  Nasir shook his head. “Nope, it gotta be pearl white.”

  “Why pearl white?”

  “To match the pearl white handle on her Desert Eagle.”

  Des nodded his approval. “I’ll put some calls in and have an estimated delivery date for you tonight.” Knowing his nephew was in love, he said, “Now don’t tell me you want advice on marriage.”

  “Unc, I’m already married, so I don’t need that.”

  Des couldn’t fuss. He knew how he was about Yarni when they first met, although he had been a little bit older than Nasir was.

  “I need you to tell me how to handle this motherfucker Felix.”

  “Felix?” Des hadn’t seen Felix once since the monumental day when he had been sentenced to sixty years in prison for a murder that Felix had committed, and he was surprised that Rico had Nasir dealing with his nephew. “What seems to be the problem with Felix?”

  Nasir stared his uncle in the face. “Straight up? I know he’s suppose to be family, but I don’t trust him. He’s greasy.”

  “Why? What makes you say that?” Des asked, half surprised at what his nephew was saying.

  “My gut says it. The first few times Rico hit me off himself, but then he met me one day telling me he’s going to let his nephew hit me off.” The hot box vibrated again.

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  Nasir looked at the number. “Look, I gotta meet the dude tomorrow night. I want you to come and see what type of vibe you get from him. I got somebody waiting on me.” Nasir’s phone continued to blow up. “Duty calls, but I’ma hit you tomorrow when I’m ready to go handle that B-I.”

  “Business good, huh?” Des smiled at his nephew.

  “Real good,” he said as he headed for the door. Des watched as Nasir let himself out.

  CHAPTER 9

  Living with bin Laden

  Des looked at his watch. It was almost time for Yarni to pick him up for their meeting with Harowitz. He was slightly anxious about seeing his attorney, wondering what kind of evidence they could possibly have on him.

  Yarni arrived just as he was finishing up a call to check on the Lexus for Nasir.

  “Hey, baby,” she said, greeting him with a kiss. “You ready?”

  “Yup,” he said, grabbing his cell phone.

  They rode to the attorney’s office in silence, lost in their own thoughts.

  As they were riding up in the elevator, Yarni turned to him. “Boo, I’m serious. If you don’t want me to sit in on the meeting, it’s okay.”

  Des looked at her and shook his head. “Like I said, I have nothing to hide. Don’t you trust me?” he asked.

  Yarni nodded, and the elevator doors opened. They looked at each other and both took a deep breath before walking through the double glass doors. A receptionist told them that Harowitz was expecting them. Yarni’s hand was wrapped around Des’s arm as they walked into the spacious corner office, then closed the door behind them.

  A Persian rug covered the floor. Large glass windows showed the cloudy skyline. Harowitz was bent over an open file on his cluttered desk when they walked in and didn’t seem to hear them. When Yarni cleared her throat, he looked up, startled. His eyes were red and tired-looking behind his thick glasses. His burgundy silk bow tie was untied. He stood up, walked around his desk, and shook Des’s and Yarni’s hands.

  “Please have a seat,” he said, inviting them to sit in the comfortable chairs on the other side of the desk. As he sat down in his chair, he took off his glasses, rubbed his eyes, and said, “Desmond, I have to be honest with you. The evidence is not looking good for you right now.”

  Des didn’t respond, but Yarni cut straight to the chase. “What’s in the discovery?”

  “Well, for starters, you have this.” He handed Yarni a letter that Des had written to Richards two weeks after being convicted.

  “They can’t be serious,” she said, shaking her head. “This is typical of what any man who has been railroaded by his attorney for a crime he didn’t commit would send.” She looked at Harowitz and asked, “You’ve never gotten one of these before?”

  “I have.” He nodded. “You know I have, but it gets even more complicated.”

  “What is it?” Yarni asked while Des sat in total silence, taking in the entire conversation between his lawyer and his wife.

  “There was an appointment with Des in Richards’s appointment book for the same day he was murdered, and Des never showed up.”

  “That’s because I never made an appointment with him. Why would I?” Des broke his silence.

  “We know this, but the kicker is that Richards got called away on an emergency, and you got gas a few miles from the scene of the crime.”

  Des could tell by the tone of Harowitz’s voice that he was doomed. “Look, this shit may not look good, but I didn’t kill that motherfucker. That’s real talk.”

  “We know, baby.” Yarni put her hand on Des’s shoulder to console him. “We’re going to beat this,” she said, shooting a look at Harowitz.

  “We’re going to do everything in our power to make sure you walk,” Harowitz said.

  Des leaned forward and asked, “Look, you do know this is some bullshit, right?”

  “Yes,” Harowitz agreed.

  Des stood and looked back and forth between Yarni and Harowitz. “If we can’t get this resolved, I’m bouncing. I’ll live in Afghanistan with bin Laden before I go back to the penitentiary for something that I didn’t do. I’ll do a hundred years for something I did do, but for some shit I didn’t do…it’s not happening.”

  Des headed for the door before turning back to Harowitz. “You need to work this shit out. Do what you’re known for doing—find a loophole, or find the motherfucker who did it. For all that gotdamn money I’m paying you, you need to put on your suit and play Matlock.”

  Yarni followed her husband as Des opened up the door to let himself out.

  “Oh, and we ain’t cutting no deals, pleading out, or any of that shit, so don’t even think about it.”

  “I’ll be in touch, Mark. Thanks for everything,” Yarni said hurriedly as she and Des exited the office.

  In the elevator, Des didn’t utter a word; Yarni knew he was steaming mad, and rightfully so. As soon as they stepped out of the elevator, her cell phone rang. It was Harowitz. He gave her the rest of the info on the discovery.

  When they approached the car, Des stood by the door waiting to hear the chirp of the alarm, but Yarni didn’t unlock the doors. Instead, she walked around to the driver’s side where Des was. “Listen, baby, we need to talk.”

  “We can talk in the car,” he said drily.

  “No, we can’t,” she firmly said.

  “Why is that?” Des asked.

  “Because I don’t know if it’s tapped. It’s apparent someone is trying to set you up.”

  “No shit.”

  “No, baby, I’m serious.”

  He looked at her as she took a deep breath and continued.

  “Listen,” she began, “I need you to tell me everything. From start to finish. Someone is out to get you. I don’t know who, what, or why, but
you and I gon’ get to the bottom of this. I promise.”

  Des didn’t have much to say, so Yarni tried her damnedest to lighten the load. “You know I don’t make promises to break them. We can and will beat this case, but I need you to tell me everything that happened from the time you left me and Desi in the hospital.”

  Des looked at Yarni. “Baby, I told you I didn’t do it. I wasn’t thinking about that clown.”

  “I know you weren’t, but in order for me to get you off, I need to know everything.” She went on. “Baby, I need you to bend one of your rules.”

  He looked at Yarni. “What might that be?”

  “Never confess to anything.”

  He laughed and shook his head. “I take the fifth.”

  “Seriously, you’ve got to tell me everything. You gotta trust me. I’d die before I’d ever betray you.”

  “What did Harowitz say?”

  “He said that…” She took another deep breath. “You ain’t gon’ believe this shit.”

  “Try me.”

  “He said that they have a witness who said a black man wearing a mask shot Richards in the head. The witness saw the man take off the mask and identified that man as you.”

  “What will they come up with next? They gonna pin the Kennedy assassination on me, too?” Des looked into a passing car that was driving by slowly in the parking lot.

  “The witness described you to a sketch artist.”

  “These motherfuckers are really trying to railroad me.” If Des’s words were not convincing enough, his expression could have persuaded the jury.

  “You got that right, but baby,” Yarni said, leaning in, “you know wifey ain’t gon’ let that happen.”

  “If I can’t clear this up, you know what I have to do, right?”

  “I know, baby, but that ain’t gon’ be necessary. We gon’ have to spend a lot of money and pull from all our resources, that’s all; and I’m going to start off by hiring a private investigator. We’re going to find out what else Richards was into besides selling his clients out. Who would want him dead, and who would want you off the streets?”

  “That’s why you my baby.” Des sighed and kissed his wife on the forehead. “Now, can you unlock the door so I can get in the car?”

  CHAPTER 10

  In One Ear and Out the Other

  Des sat across from Sister Khadija’s desk as she updated him about all the goings-on with the business. Although her mouth was going a million miles a minute, what she was saying was going in one ear and out the other. Des’s mind was focused on his case and on the Cadi rolling up on his car lot. The driver looked familiar and was someone whom Des knew from the inside. One of his salesmen walked outside to try to make a sale, but he returned quickly.

  “The dude says he looking for you, boss,” the salesman said, tilting his head toward the man getting out of the passenger side of the Cadillac.

  “Who is it?” Des asked, knowing that the person looked familiar, but not able to place him.

  “He say he yo’ brother-in-law.”

  Then it clicked. Yarni had mentioned that Bambi’s husband, Lynx, was coming by to get a car.

  Des smiled and hopped up. He always openly embraced a thorough brother who had just been released from the belly of the beast, and it especially ran deep in the family.

  Des walked out onto the lot as Lynx stood at the side of the Cadi. He wore a rose-gold chain around his neck and a two-carat diamond in his ear. He was a good six feet tall and looked like he had spent plenty of time in the prison gym. Lynx had known of Des before he did his bid, but he had never done business with him or talked to him. But now they were related, so it was mandatory.

  Des gave him a brotherly hug. “What’s good, my man?”

  “Just glad to be home.”

  “Don’t I know that feeling,” Des assured his brother-in-law. “How much you do?”

  “Two and a half.”

  “B was holding you down, huh?”

  “Fo’ sho,” Lynx answered. “Her and Yarni got some party they planned for me.”

  “Yeah, we got ourselves two special sisters. The party’s at our house.”

  “I ’preciate you letting them have it at your house. I know how that can be.”

  “Don’t mention it. You family.” Des switched topics. “So, what you trying to do?”

  “I need some wheels, and they say you the man to see.”

  “They told you right. What you thinking ’bout?”

  “I need something hot; and my wife paying.”

  Des smiled. “I got you, my brother. You see anything you like?”

  While Lynx looked around the lot, the driver of the Cadi got out of the car and asked, “How much you want for that white Porsche?”

  “We can work something out,” Des said, before redirecting his attention to Lynx. Des was surprised that Lynx was rolling with Cook’em-up.

  “Cook’em-up, this is my brother-in-law Des. Des, this is my man Cook’em-up.”

  “I know who he is,” Des interjected.

  Lynx was surprised. “Word?”

  “Yeah. Didn’t you do a little bit at Greensville?” Des asked Cook’em-up.

  Cook’em-up’s smirk left his face, and he nodded. “Yeah.”

  Des searched his eyes. “You was cellie with Pompay for a minute, right?”

  Cook’em-up silently nodded.

  “Yeah, I thought that was you.”

  Lynx knew both guys’ bios all too well. Des was a stand-up dude, and Cook’em-up was a stone-cold killer; if their two worlds ever collided, it wasn’t anything to take lightly. Judging by the tension, it was apparent that somewhere and somehow the two paths had crossed before. Sensing the propensity for fire, Lynx tried to ease the tension. He focused on why he was there: the cars.

  “So what’s the deal, man? I need some hot shit.”

  “You in safe hands. I got you,” Des assured his brother-in-law. “What you like? Benz, Beamer, Ferrari, Lex? If we ain’t got it, we can get it.”

  “Ummm, I’ve been gone for a minute, so I’m not sho what I’m feeling. My whip game may be a lil’ slack.”

  “It never takes long to get your car game back.”

  Lynx looked around the lot. “An S Class could work, but I ain’t really feeling that one.” He pointed to a champagne-colored one with customized piped seats.

  Des gave him a crazy look. “I wouldn’t put you in that anyway. A stripper just traded that in.” Des put his hand up on his chin. “I got something real special for you.” Des nodded as if a lightbulb had just gone off in his head. “A welcome-home, red-light special for my brother-in-law. I just bought a CLS Mercedes from a dealer. It was their demo—got only ten thousand miles on it. Brand-spanking-new. Son of a bitch ain’t never even been registered.”

  Des had just given Lynx a hell of a welcome-home present, and Lynx was feeling it. “Good-lookin’,” he said as he extended his hand out to shake Des’s.

  Just then they redirected their attention to a Yellow Cab that rolled up in front of the car lot. A teenage kid jumped out of it with his rose-gold forty-two-inch cable swinging from side to side, and he made his way over to the champagne-colored souped-up S Class. They all watched as he tried to keep up his baggy pants and carry the Gucci overnight bag in his hand.

  “How much you want for this joint?” the youngin asked, adjusting his pants.

  Des shook his head. “It was just traded, so we haven’t done anything to it.”

  “You ain’t got no quarter to eights?”

  “Yeah, I got a couple of seven forty-fives.” Des nodded.

  The kid started walking, then another car caught his attention. “What about that?” He pointed to a late-model convertible six series BMW.

  “It got a few miles, so I can do that for fifty-nine, fully loaded.”

  “A’ight put the bow on that bitch, and I’m going to get my momma or baby momma to come back up here to put it in her name.” He tossed the Gucci bag to Des. “That�
��s sixty. Wash it and fill it up for me.”

  “Wait a minute, partner.” Des put his hand up to stop the young fella. “Slow up, my man.”

  “What? We need to make this transazzion go down, ’cause a nigga straight tired of pushing these Jordans.”

  “Peace, I feel that, but you got to slow down, shawdy.”

  Sister Khadija came to the door wrapped in her garb, holding the phone, and called out, “Des, Tommy’s on the phone from Miami and says he got a Bentley Continental GT in—an ’05. He says it’s pretty as a honey-roasted turkey on Thanksgiving. Are you interested?”

  “Ask him to hold tight for a few minutes—got a couple customers.” Then he added, “Write up the paperwork for the new CLS that we got coming in for him,” he said, pointing to Lynx, “and give him some tags and whatever he wants to drive until we get it here.”

  Sister Khadija nodded and obediently did what she was told.

  Lynx and Cook’em-up walked inside the building while Des broke the game down to the youngster.

  “Look, baby boy, you trying to send me and you to the penitentiary.”

  “What da fuck you mean? I don’t know you, and you don’t know me.”

  Des gave him a look. “You right, but listen here, you can give me nine thousand a week as far as I’m concerned, but you coming in here paying cash like that, that’s not going to work for me or you. I know you don’t know how it goes down, so I’m going to put you up on it.”

  Des was trying to give Lil’ Man some jewels, but Lil’ Man’s thoughts were on one thing and one thing only…that BMW. And anything else was in one ear and out the other as far as he was concerned.

  “You give me the whole fifty-nine, I gotta report every dollar of that to the IRS. That’s a red flag for you and your momma. You become a walking investigation straight up.”

  “So what I’m supposed to do? Ride around in a Pinto?”

  “My man, it’s always two ways to skin a cat.”

  “Good, because a Pinto ain’t a good look for my image.”

  In a matter of time, Des had Lil’ Man off heels and on wheels. Five sales in one day wasn’t bad at all.