47

The dark blue Yukon raced across the George Washington Bridge, doing sixty miles per hour. The sky was turning to dusk as the city lights became illuminated from a distance and the traffic on the G.W. Bridge was starting to thicken with cars and trucks.

Crown was reclined in the passenger seat as he looked at the city with a deadpan stare. Jamaica, Queens was his hometown and he hadn’t been back there since the early nineties. He still had enemies in the city, but that thought didn’t put fear in his heart.

It would be worth the trip just to see his bitch Chaos and YB one last time. He had so much he wanted to do with the loving couple that he didn’t even want his money back. It was now personal. Crown just wanted to hear the bitch scream while his hands were around her neck, squeezing the life out of her.

The Yukon was filled with guns and the men were ready to spill blood on the Bronx streets. It was Harlem’s first trip to the Big Apple and he wasn’t impressed.

“Fuck New York,” he uttered in a vile tone, as he cruised across the Cross Bronx Expressway.

Crown chuckled. “Bad experience?”

Harlem just gave Crown a “whatever” look.

The two made it into the Bronx that night, just as the city’s nightlife was about to jump off. The streets were buzzing with traffic and people and the city became electrified with lights and noise.

Crown looked at the address on the envelope and guided Harlem in the direction. They drove toward the Grand Concourse and looked for 181st street.

When they drove up the block, it was filled with people, mostly Hispanic, who were enjoying the balmy warm night. They lingered outside their buildings seated or standing and playing their reggaeton music or just talking to neighbors.

Harlem parked the car and looked around, taking in the layout of the crowded street. He prepared himself for anything. He was already irritated with New York with the heavy traffic and loud music. He turned to Crown and asked, “What now?”

“Now, we look for the place,” Crown said.

Both men crossed the one-way street. Some of the residents on the block took notice of them but minded their own business. They looked like they were from out of town—probably drug dealers or just here for trouble, neighbors whispered amongst themselves.

Harlem and Crown stood in front of the tall building and Crown compared the address with the one on the envelope. He nodded to Harlem.

“Yeah, this is it,” he said.

“Yo, I ain’t come here to sightsee,” Harlem said.

Crown walked off and Harlem followed. Crown always hated the Bronx. There were too many Puerto Ricans and Dominicans blasting music, crowding the streets, and speaking a language he didn’t understand. Back in the days when he had business that involved being in the Bronx, he was always in and out.

Both men entered the lobby and headed to the elevators. They could hear music blaring from behind an apartment door.

“Damn, don’t these people ever stop wit’ the music?” Harlem complained.

The elevator came down to the lobby and both men stepped in. It reeked of urine and Harlem twisted his face from the smell. Crown pushed for floor number eight and soon they emerged from the elevator and stepped into the narrow hallway. Harlem had his hand near his weapon and looked out for any trouble they might stumble upon.

They reached the end of the hallway and found the apartment they were looking for. Harlem cocked his gun subtly. Both men were quiet as they stood outside the apartment as they didn’t know what was behind the door.

Crown knocked on the door politely. Harlem stood off to the side, trying to stay out of sight. They didn’t want to scare whoever was inside by having the occupants see two thugs outside the door.

Crown continued to knock, but no one answered and he was becoming upset.

“The bitch ain’t home,” Harlem said.

“She’s somewhere close. I know. I can feel that bitch,” Crown stated.

Crown knocked again, this time a bit harder in case the occupant didn’t hear the last couple of knocks. He turned to look at Harlem, who looked like the Angel of Death standing across from him.

“We’ll just come back,” Harlem said.

Crown was quiet. He hated to leave without knowing something more accurate about Chaos or YB. He wasn’t even sure that the address he had was their exact location. Bubbles did say to him that the letter was three years old. The Bronx was a big borough, but somehow Crown knew that Chaos was close by. It had been her home for so many years.

As they were about to leave, a young woman walked out of a neighboring apartment. Crown saw this as an opportunity to elicit viable information.

The young Puerto Rican girl looked as if she was in her late teens. She was dressed like she was about to go to the club in a short mini-skirt, high heels, a halter top under a butter-soft leather jacket and long, black hair falling gracefully down to her shoulders. She was beautiful. Crown admired her and thought that if he hadn’t been there looking for Chaos, he would have talked her into working a track.

Crown hurried to the young girl before she could disappear.

“Excuse me, beautiful. I need a minute of your time,” Crown said politely.

The girl turned and looked at Crown. She stopped in the middle of the hallway and waited for him to approach her.

“What you want?” she said with some attitude.

Crown smiled. “Nice tone of voice.”

“Nigga, I’m in a fuckin’ rush. I gotta cab waiting downstairs.”

“I’m not gonna take up too much of your time, but I need to know somethin’,” Crown said.

“Like what?”

“Who stays in that apartment right there?” Crown pointed to the apartment where he’d been knocking.

She sucked her teeth. “Why is it your business?”

Harlem was becoming fed up with the girl’s attitude and was ready to make her talk with a gun in her mouth and a fist across her face.

“Look, I’ll make it worth your time,” Crown said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a knot of hundred-dollar bills.

The young girl’s face lit up and suddenly her nasty attitude changed. Crown peeled off two C-notes but before he gave her any cash, he said, “You need to talk, first, before I pass this.”

The girl smiled . “Oh, that’s Wendy Joseph’s apartment.”

She wasn’t telling him shit. “And?” Crown asked. He needed more to go on.

“And look, if she ain’t home, then she’s probably at her shop, doin’ hair. And if she ain’t at her shop, then she’s probably at church ’cause that lady got more religion in her than Christ himself. And look, if she ain’t at church, then I don’t know what the fuck to tell you. ’Cause she ain’t gotta man and she always home if she ain’t workin’ or at church. You happy?”

“Nah, not yet,” Crown said. “I need more.”

“More? Nigga, I done told you everything about the bitch! What else do you want to know?” she snapped. She looked at her watch and added, “You know I gotta cab waiting downstairs.”

“Where’s this shop you mentioned?”

“It’s called New Style Hair near Fordham and Jerome Avenue.”

“And the church?”

“Look, what is this, a fuckin’ census or sumthin?” The girl was getting irritated by the questions.

Crown peeled off another hundred from his wad to cool her attitude. “And the church?”

“I don’t know. I think it’s on Third Avenue somewhere. I never been to her church,” she stated.

“One last question,” Crown said.

The young teen sucked her teeth loudly and stared at Crown rudely. “What?”

“Is she alone? I mean, have you seen another young girl around her lately?”

“Nah, not really. The only girl I see her with is, like, this pregnant girl sometimes. But she don’t come around here hardly.”

“Pregnant?”

“Yeah, pregnant. You know, somebody fucked her and dropped that seed in her. What, your peoples never told you about the birds and the bees?” the young teen joked.

Crown nodded and smiled. Instinct told him that the pregnant girl was Chaos. He was very happy with the news he just heard. Chaos was pregnant, which made the hunt for her even more thrilling. He looked at the young girl and passed her the three hundred dollars but warned her to keep quiet about their talk. She agreed and quickly snatched the money from his hand. “Thank you!” she said as she prepared to board the elevator.

Before the doors could close, Crown shouted to her, “Beautiful, what’s your name?”

“They call me Fly around here,” she stated.

“Well, Fly, if you ever want a lot more where that came from, you need to come see me. I can make you a rich woman,” he boasted.

Fly smiled. “It’s whatever. Thanks for the cab fare and the club money.”

The elevator doors closed. Crown and Harlem stood in the hallway and pondered their next move.

“Why you pay that bitch three hundred? We could have gotten shit from her with my gun in her face,” Harlem said.

Crown looked at Harlem. “Sometimes, it pays to be subtle. I don’t wanna tip anyone off that we’re out here lookin’ for Chaos. Let it be a surprise.”

Harlem didn’t say a word. He came to New York for a reason and he didn’t want a two-hour road trip to go to waste.