Set against the backdrop of Central Park and in connection with The Metropolitan Museum of Art, the Petrie Court Cafe and Wine Bar was a European-style restaurant that served an à la carte lunch and Sunday brunch. It also transformed into a sophisticated, intimate wine bar on Friday and Saturday evenings. On that Monday, though, Kareem and Marquis met in a quiet corner, but their conversation was quite loud. The cafe was one block over from Kareem’s villa and perfect for Marquis to tell him all about Toi’s plight and come up with the perfect plan to get over and/or around what was happening.
That day, even in New York City and after 9/11, Marquis was dressed as an Arab-American. He had a natural bronze complexion and a long beard with a complimentary mustache. The beard was fake, no doubt, but it was the Muslim’s holy month of Ramadan, and that served as the perfect cover for him to meet his pal. There was no doubt that federal agents watched Kareem’s every move as they were desperate to bring the people to court who helped Kareem, but they had no clue where to even begin. Neither Kareem, nor Andre had any desire to tell them. For what? And open up a whole different list of crimes. That was the most absurd thing to Kareem and all involved. Confessing to a crime was like handcuffing oneself and waltzing into a police station and handing the police a video tape of one committing a crime.
“Where is she now?” Kareem asked after Marquis had given him the preliminary information.
“At the JFK, stressed beyond comprehension, and I am fearful that she may be reaching the same levels that forced her to have the first miscarriage. This is bad, Reem. Why are they pressing her to do this?”
“Man, why is she at the airport?” Calm outside. Ready to kill on the outside.
“We have a plan, and just need you to go along. You can’t control everything.” Marquis raked his hands through his faux beard and reviewed the menu. “We’re not really ordering are we? I have no appetite.”
“Don’t dismiss me, man. Where is my girl, Marquis?” Kareem leaned into the table.
“I’m not telling you. Trust me, and that’s all I will say. I am not working for any fucking agents and I did not kidnap her.”
“Man, I know she ain’t kidnapped. She left blood at my door which is not her blood type. She’s not that damn clever, and I don’t need her roaming. Where is she headed?”
“Not telling. Move on. Are we eating here or not?”
“No, not eating here, but they want me, and bad man. So you know why they would target her. If you burn me, I will kill you myself, Marquis. Toi doesn’t even know much. She does know about how Shimir was offed, but she was his target. He was pursuing her to get me and broke into my brother’s home. These mutha fuckas are crazy. She can’t talk about any drugs or fraud, and it’s lunacy for them to think that I brought my street shit home. My dad long ago taught me and Dre about leaving what we do in the street right there. And he told us to never tell that shit over pillow talk. That’s why my mom is not in jail with my dad.”
“This is crazy,” Marquis told Kareem. To the waiter, he said, “Just get us two vintage glasses of Brunello di Montalcino.” When the waiter walked away, Marquis said, “Don’t ever threaten me, man. I was there from day one!”
“I’m not man. Just stressed. You ordered the most expensive red wine on the menu. You must be catching the tab,” Kareem said jokingly.
“Hell, no. You’re covering this as you have the dilemma. Remember the last time we were here, you brought me and Dre here to tell us that we had to cut off all of our chicks and anyone else because we had no idea who may have been a McKenzey flunky. Dre had walked out ‘cause he was not trying to give up his bitch that worked at the courthouse. You chased behind him and I paid that bill, so this is all yours.”
“You have a bad memory. I put the money you paid into your pocket,” Kareem said and chuckled.
“Man, we have been thorough a lot from day one of this. I remember the first time we cut class and ran to the bank to open our first accounts with those checks you stole from your job.”
“Shaking my fucking head. I was fifteen and a bona fide thief. Now look at me.”
“What? You have a fashion empire with over 200 employees worldwide. Barack should thank you.”
“You’re crazy as shit, man. What are we going to do about Toi. She loves me and I know that she has been being a bitch all the time because she fears jail and what them assholes will do to me. I hate this.”
“Well, bro, you know that we have a solution. This I gotta hear.”
“There is nothing to hear. Just all action. All I will say is that Toi is,” he checked his watch, “on a flight out of here. And guess what. We’re meeting her on a red-eye, so I need you ready to go at 9 for a 10:30 flight.”
“Man, you know damn well if I try to get out of here. It’s going down. I bet there’s an agent over there,” Kareem said and nodded at an odd looking man looking out from the museum at Central Park.
“Actually man, you know damn well, I am a master of disguises amongst other things, and you’re leaving this city tonight at 10:30!”