Chapter 9
When Bishop walked into Mr. Hanley’s hospital room, his heart sank. His boss was hooked up to all sorts of machines. An IV slowly dripped medication through a clear tube. The medicine not only served to soothe his aches and pains, but it also gave him peace of mind. As long as he heard their constant beeps, he knew that he was still alive. Eddie, who was sitting beside the bed when Bishop walked in, snorted and turned his head when he saw Bishop. Mr. Hanley’s skin was dry and crusted from his stay in the hospital. His lips looked as if they needed a case of ChapStick. Mr. Hanley woke up just in time to see Bishop walk in. He smiled as Bishop approached the bed. Bishop ignored Eddie and went to his boss’s bedside.
“Bishop. How are you, son?”
“I’m okay. I’m sorry I didn’t get here to see you earlier,” Bishop said, feeling guilty. His boss had been laid up for a couple of weeks, and this was the first time Bishop had gone to see him.
“It’s okay, son. I know that you’re a busy young man, going to school and trying to work, too.”
Bishop felt like shit. He’d forgotten all about the lie he’d told Mr. Hanley about going to school. Eddie let out another loud snort, giving Bishop the urge to punch him in the face.
“So, Bishop. Who do you think it was who robbed the store?” Eddie asked him with a sly grin on his face.
“Nigga, what the fuck you askin’ me for?” Bishop snapped.
“Why the fuck you gettin’ so defensive? You act like you had somethin’ to do with that shit.” Eddie had always believed that Bishop had a hand in Mr. Hanley’s store getting robbed. He couldn’t prove anything, but he’d seen Bishop hanging out with the other dudes before.
Bishop walked up on Eddie with his fists balled up. “What the fuck you tryin’a say, punk-ass muthafucka?” The two of them were starting to get loud.
“That’s enough,” Mr. Hanley said weakly. “I don’t want the two of you fighting over something that neither of you are at fault for. I’m going to need you two to get along since it seems that I’m gonna be laid up for a while. I told Wendy to open the store back up. No sense in losing money.”
Right about then, the nurse walked in. “I’m sorry, but you two are going to have to leave. It’s time for his medication, and he needs his rest.”
After saying their goodbyes to their boss, Bishop and Eddie walked out of the hospital, glaring at each other. They didn’t say two words to each other all the way out the door. But as soon as they got outside, Eddie tried to start up.
“Nigga, I know you had something to do with Mr. Hanley’s store getting robbed!”
Bishop looked at Eddie’s mouth and cocked his head to the side. This was the first time he’d seen his coworker since the heist. “Look, I’m gonna tell yo’ bitch ass this shit just one damn time. I ain’t have shit to do with the store being robbed, but you know what? I wish I did know who robbed the store. I would hit ’em off with some bread for knockin’ yo’ muthafuckin’ teeth out.”
Eddie was pissed. He took a step toward Bishop and was rewarded with a hard push. “Nigga, get the fuck outta my face! Don’t you ever run up on me!”
Eddie threw up his hands and got in his boxing stance. “See, now you done fucked up,” he yelled. “I’m about to beat the brakes off yo’ punk ass!”
“Bring that shit then, duke!”
Before either of them could throw any punches, two large security guards came rushing out the door. “What’s the problem here?” asked the taller of the two. Both of them looked like they were getting ready to retire to an old folks’ home. Not wanting to get caught up in any legal drama, both Eddie and Bishop backed down.
“Ain’t no problem, dawg. We cool,” Eddie said. He started to walk away and then looked back at Bishop. “Catch you around, homie.”
“Yeah, whateva, bro,” Bishop said, giving him the finger as he walked away.
* * *
After returning home from her breakfast with Tangie, Veronica called a locksmith. She had to wait for the better part of an hour before the greasy-looking fat man showed up and opened her car for her. But to Veronica, it barely seemed like ten minutes. Her thoughts were otherwise occupied by the visions she kept having. When she was spying on Tangie giving Antwan head, she kept seeing herself and Bishop playing out the same scenario. As much as she tried to deny it, Bishop giving her the cold shoulder made her see a stronger, more grown-up side to him. Although she hated to admit it, whenever she was around him, she became aroused.
Veronica was an unusual woman. Her reputation of sleeping around with different guys was partially created by her own tongue. She’d never had a good relationship with her mother, so it was her aunt she confided in most of the time. And it was her aunt who had told her that if she didn’t satisfy her man, someone else would.
Somewhere in her mind, Veronica had turned that into, “If a man thinks that other men are after you, the more he will want you.” Her friend didn’t know it, but the only reason she wore the type of clothing she did was she thought that it would help her find a quality man.
When Veronica finally did get home, she decided to put something in the Crock-Pot for dinner later on. After taking out the pot roast, carrots, and onions, she discovered that she was out of potatoes. Since potatoes were her favorite vegetable, there was no way on this earth she was going to cook without them. She promptly grabbed her keys, walked out the door, and headed to Giant Eagle food market.
As soon as Veronica walked into the supermarket, she wanted to turn around and run back out. The last person she wanted to see stared her in the face.
“Veronica? Girl, is that you?” her mother’s nosy friend called out.
“Hey, Miss April,” Veronica said with a fake smile. April Daniels was Veronica’s mother’s best friend and also one of the nosiest people in the city of Cleveland.
“Girl, I ain’t seen you in a month of Sundays,” she said as she slid her slight frame over next to Veronica. Her hair was dyed black, although it took very little effort to see the gray peeking through the roots. Her newly bought porcelain teeth shined as she gave Veronica her warmest smile. Taking a handkerchief out of her pocket, Miss April proceeded to polish the same red-rimmed glasses she’d worn for the past fifteen years. “Girl, how yo’ mama doin’?” she asked.
“She’s doin’ okay, Miss April.”
Miss April just stared and shook her head.
What the hell is wrong with her ass? Veronica wondered.
“Now how would you know how she doin’, chile? She said that she ain’t seen you in nearly two weeks.”
Then what the fuck you ask me that shit for? Veronica wanted to ask. “Well, I been kinda busy, Miss April.”
“I undastand, chile. When you work a lot of hours like you do . . . Oh, wait, that’s right. You got fired, didn’t you?”
Veronica wanted to slap the old woman’s teeth out. She also wanted to tell her mother off for discussing her business with other people. That was part of the reason she hated visiting her mother. “No, Miss April. I still have my job. It was just a little misunderstanding, that’s all.” Veronica was pissed. If her mother had waited before she started spreading fake gossip, she would have known that it was a case of mistaken identity.
Miss April looked confused. She hated it when she got screwed-up information. Slightly embarrassed, she changed the subject. “When you gon’ give Irene some grandkids? She’s been itchin’ to be called Grandma, you know.”
“Miss April, I ain’t even dating nobody right now, so I know I ain’t about to have no kids.”
“Uhmm hmm,” Miss April said with a twisted-up face.
“Uhmm hmm what?” Veronica asked, offended.
“Oh, nothin’, chile. I was just thinkin’ to ma’self.”
“I gotta go, Miss April.”
Veronica quickly rushed down the aisle that was closest to her. Had she stood there a second longer, she would have surely told the old bat off. She was a grown-ass woman and didn’t like being interrogated by the likes of April Daniels. After gathering up the potatoes, Veronica made a beeline to the liquor section. Since she didn’t have any weed to smoke, she grabbed a bottle of Three Olives Mango Vodka.
She needed something to settle her nerves after the inquisition from Miss April. Veronica crept back down the aisle, trying at all costs to avoid a second encounter with Miss Nosy. She peeked around the corner and smiled devilishly as she saw Miss April chatting with Reverend Bernard Dawson from the First Sky Baptist Church. Bernard Dawson was by all accounts a crooked man. He’d been accused on more than one occasion of stealing money from the church. But since there was never any proof against him, he was allowed to keep his position.
He was also a notorious skirt chaser. He never took the chance of stalking women while at the church, but the second he hit the streets, it was on and popping. Veronica hadn’t been to that church since her father’s funeral. But when she was younger, she attended on a regular basis, so she knew a thing or two about Reverend Dawson. Like the fact that he had a wife. Veronica didn’t know if he would remember her, but she was going to make damn sure that Miss April paid for her actions earlier. Barely able to contain her excitement, Veronica walked toward the reverend and extended her hand.
“Hey, Reverend Bernard. Long time, no see. How are you?”
“Uh, I’m fine, miss, but do I know you?”
“Come on, Rev. You know me. I’m Veronica Campbell. Irene Campbell’s daughter. My father’s funeral was there.”
“Oh, yes, of course. I’m sorry. How have you been?”
“Fine, just fine. How is your wife doing?” Veronica made sure that she put the emphasis on “wife” when she said this. She looked Miss April square in the face.
“Uh, she’s fine, Veronica. Thanks for asking.”
Taking advantage of his nervousness, Veronica looked back and forth at the Reverend and Miss April. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt anything. I’ll be on my way,” she said as she walked away.
“Veronica, wait,” Miss April called out to her. She wanted to tell her that she and the reverend were old friends, but Veronica had already scampered off to the checkout line. Miss April just stood there, disgusted by the taste of her own medicine.
After paying for her items, Veronica walked out of the supermarket and laughed all the way to her car. She was extremely satisfied with the payback that she’d just inflicted. Miss April was a royal pain in the ass, and although it may have been a bit disrespectful to do what she did, Veronica didn’t regret it for one second. She laughed all the way home as she thought about the look on Miss April’s face.
Her inner thighs became moist as flashbacks of Tangie giving Antwan head replayed in her mind. Veronica didn’t have a dick to suck on, but she planned on giving her vibrator a hell of a workout once she got home. Five minutes later, Veronica pulled into her driveway.
As soon as she got out of her car, the plastic bag burst wide open. Her potatoes fell to the ground and rolled down the driveway. “Shit,” she screamed as she tried to run them down. The last one was on its way to the street when it was scooped up and tossed back to Veronica. She was silent for a moment, caught off guard by the appearance of Bishop and his willingness to help. She half expected him to let it go into the busy street and get crushed.
“You’re welcome,” Bishop said sarcastically as he kept walking.
“Wait! Thanks,” Veronica said, embarrassed that she’d momentarily lost her manners. Bishop just nodded and kept it moving.
“Wait! Where you headed?”
“To the house.”
“You need a ride?” Veronica asked, trying to get in good with the youngster. Veronica was tired of trying to deny it. She liked Bishop. She had no idea when she started liking him. But somewhere between her laughing at him in the store and him tossing her potatoes back to her, she became interested in him. But Bishop was skeptical. The rejection had hurt him more than he’d let on, and quite frankly, he didn’t have time to play these games.
“Nah, I’m straight,” he said.
“Well, could you at least give a sista a hand with somethin’?”
“A hand with what?”
“My back door is stuck,” she lied. “I can’t get it open for shit. Can you try to get it open for me?”
“Your back door is stuck? Are you serious?”
“I’m dead ass.”
Bishop really didn’t feel like being bothered. All he wanted to do was go home, sit on the back porch, and fire up a blunt. Plus he didn’t have his hammer, and Bishop didn’t like to be out in the streets too long without being strapped. He made a screwed-up face, and Veronica sensed that she was losing him.
“I’ll pay you for your services, Bishop.”
“Oh, word? Shit, let’s go then!”
Bishop followed Veronica into the house. After making a stop in the kitchen, she led him to the back door. On the way there, she figured she’d try to make things right about the store incident.
“Bishop, I just wanna apologize for what happened at the store that day. I didn’t mean to laugh at you. The whole thing just caught me off guard.”
“It’s cool. Don’t worry ’bout it,” Bishop said, playing it off. He was actually shocked that she even offered an apology, but he accepted it nonetheless.
When they got to the back door, Bishop saw immediately that there was nothing wrong with it, but he decided to play along. He walked over to it and jerked it a couple of times.
“Got it,” he said, after opening the unstuck door.
Veronica stared at Bishop’s muscular frame. She’d never really noticed how good he looked until that very moment.
Bishop turned around and caught her looking. “What?”
“Nothin’. Thank you. I’ve been tryin’a open that damn door for a week and a half now.”
“Is that right?”
“What? You think I’m lyin’?”
“Ain’t nobody say you was lying.” Both of them just stared awkwardly at each other for about five seconds before Veronica broke the silence. “Oh, my bad. I guess you wanna get paid now, huh?”
“Somethin’ like that.”
Veronica then led him back into the kitchen. She reached in the cabinet and took out two glasses. She opened the refrigerator and took out a carton of mango juice. Bishop just stood there with his arms folded. He was wondering when she was going to go into her purse and get his bread. After pouring two drinks, Veronica handed one to Bishop and kept one for herself.
“The fuck is this?” he asked.
“Payment.”
“Payment?”
“Yep. I never said I was gonna pay you in cash,” Veronica said, smiling.
Bishop started to get mad, but there was something about the way she smiled at him that warmed him over. He looked at her banging body, and his loins started to heat up. Just then his stomach growled, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten anything all day.
“Damn, is that yo’ stomach?”
“Yeah,” he said, laughing. “I ain’t ate shit all day, so I guess my stomach wanna know what the fuck is goin’ on. But yo, I’ma roll out and hit up Mickey D’s.”
The mere mention of McDonald’s food made Veronica’s stomach turn. “Ah, hell naw, boy, that shit’ll kill you. Have a seat, homeboy.”
Veronica went back into the refrigerator and took out a plate of fried chicken. After warming it up in the microwave, she set the plate down in front of him. The succulent aroma caused his stomach to howl out again. Bishop tried not to appear greedy, but after the first bite, he was gone. In less than five minutes, the bones were as clean as a baby’s ass.
“You want some more?” she asked.
Bishop didn’t want to come off as a glutton, but before he could answer, Veronica made the decision for him. “You know you do,” she said as she took his plate. “So,” she said in a sexy voice, “are you a breast, leg, or thigh man?”
Catching the sensual tone in her voice, Bishop came right back at her. “I like it all, baby.”
Veronica smiled as she put a breast and leg on his plate. After heating it up, she set it down in front of him and poured herself another drink. Afterward, she sat down across from him and watched him eat.
“Where you get this chicken from, that new place up on Lakeshore?”
“What? Nigga, you must done fell and bumped yo’ head! I got mad skills in the kitchen, dude!”
“You cooked this?” he asked with surprise in his voice.
“Hell yeah!”
Bishop didn’t know whether to believe her. He didn’t want to insult her, so he just kept on eating.
“What, you don’t believe me?”
“I didn’t say that,” he said as his voice went up an octave, indicating doubt.
Veronica’s mouth flew open. Her eyebrows rose as she put her hands on her hips. “I can show you betta than I can tell you,” she said as she got up and walked toward the kitchen counter. Bishop continued to eat as she peeled and sliced up the potatoes. She washed them off and put them in a bowl. After that, she took the pot roast out of the refrigerator and seasoned it accordingly. Bishop watched silently as she dumped the food into the Crock-Pot.
“Now, in two hours, get ready for a treat.”
* * *
Temp sat in the Shake ’Em Up lounge tossing back shots of Jack Daniels. Although he was only 19, he could easily pass for 21, so he had no trouble accessing any bar he wanted to frequent. Temp partially felt like shit for what he’d done, but being a father was not in the cards. He didn’t want to be responsible for anyone other than himself. Still, his conscience was beating on him like Ike Turner. He could almost smell the blood that had poured out of Yolonda’s womb.
Temp was careful to make sure that there were no witnesses around when he assaulted her. If she called the police later on, he would just deny it. At worst he would have to spend a night or two in jail, but with no one there to see it and with him denying it, it would be her word against his. The judge or the jury, if it even got that far, would surely have to throw the case out.
As he downed another shot, Temp wondered where his life was headed. A high school dropout at the age of 16, he knew that he didn’t have the necessary skills to get a high-end job. Working at a fast-food place was definitely not an option for Temp. He just couldn’t see taking orders from people or letting them talk to him any kind of way for the small piece of change that kind of job would pay. Of all the Young Lionz, Temp had the most freedom to roam. He didn’t have a steady girlfriend to hold him down or nag him.
His father was a retired postal worker who was now a full-time drunk. From the day Temp was born, Richard Green doubted that he was indeed the child’s father. Temp’s mother, Sandra, was the neighborhood whore, and it had been widely spread that she had slept with three different men on the night that Temp was conceived. But until her dying day, she held steadfast that Tempton David Green was Richard’s son. Sandra was also a heavy drinker, a trait that seemed to have been passed down to Temp. And although she died from cirrhosis of the liver, it did nothing to deter Temp from drinking.
Starting to feel his stomach bubble, Temp ordered a dozen wings. When they came, he scoffed them down in record time. Feeling his bladder about to burst, Temp got up and stumbled to the bathroom.
After relieving himself and washing his hands, he made his way back to the barstool. Sitting two stools down from him were two of the finest women he’d ever seen. Both of them appeared to be in their mid-twenties. The shorter one had a cropped haircut. She had butter-light skin and a few freckles on her cheeks. The other one was honey brown. Her hair was sandy brown and pulled back in a ponytail. Temp pretended not to eavesdrop on their conversation, but in reality, he was listening to every word being said.
The taller woman was telling her friend that she couldn’t stay out that late because she had to be at work early the next morning. Meanwhile, the other one was complaining that her man was cheating on her and that they hadn’t had sex in three months. A sly smile eased onto his face as he saw an opportunity to get some ass. He slowly made his way down to where they were sitting. No sooner had Temp sat beside them than the woman who said she couldn’t stay late got up to leave.
“I’m sorry, Deb, but I gotta go, girl. I’ll holla at you tomorrow.”
“Fine. Take yo’ square ass on home then, Pam,” Deb said, waving her off.
“Whateva, bitch,” Pam responded before walking off.
“Damn, it looks like a partna just bailed on you,” Temp said, attempting to make conversation.
“Yeah, I know. Bitch.”
Temp noticed that she didn’t have a drink in her hand, and seized the moment. “What you drinking on, pretty lady?”
“Well, since you being all gentlemanly, I’ll take a Long Island Iced Tea. Thanks.”
“Don’t worry ’bout it. My name is Temp, baby,” he said, extending his hand.
“Debra,” she said, receiving it.
“You mean to tell me that yo’ man let you out looking like that?”
“Looking like what?”
“Looking fine as fuck,” Temp said, licking her lips.
Debra blushed as she let her eyes roam over Temp’s frame. “You think I’m fine, huh?”
“Damn right. You the finest muthafucka in here.”
For the next forty-five minutes, the two of them proceeded to get better acquainted. Even though they weren’t the only people in the bar, that didn’t stop Debra from openly groping Temp, causing his soldier to stand at full attention. Debra then leaned over and whispered in his ear. “Hey, baby. Why don’t you let me take you in the ladies’ room and give you some special attention?”
Temp almost burst in his pants. She didn’t need to tell him twice as he grabbed her hand and pulled her in the direction of the women’s bathroom. Once they were inside, Debra wasted no time dropping to her knees. With lust in her eyes, she hungrily unzipped his pants. She pulled out his dick and licked her lips while stroking it with her right hand.
“Damn, baby, you could choke a bitch with that shit you packing,” she said, gassing him up. A warm sensation overtook him as she engulfed his tool. Temp moaned in pleasure as Debra expertly performed the art of fellatio. Temp felt his nuts tightening up, signaling that he was close to cumming. Shortly after that, he felt something cold and hard pressing against his temple.
“Don’t move, muthafucka,” said Pam from out of nowhere.
Grinning wickedly, Debra got up off of her knees. She smirked at Temp as she stuck her hands in his pockets. Had Temp been paying closer attention, he would have noticed that for every three drinks he tossed back, Debra only had one. The alcohol more than loosened him up and caused his guard to drop.
“Damn, bitch, was you jus’ gon’ let this bitch-ass nigga squirt his babies in my mouth?” she asked her partner.
“Hell nah! Then I woulda had to shoot his punk ass. Ain’t nobody cummin’ in yo’ mouth but me, baby.” The two women shared a quick kiss before continuing with the jack move.
Ain’t this a bitch. I just got caught slippin’ by these broads. “Yo, what the fuck is this bullshit?” he asked. His answer came swift and hard in the form of a blow to the head.
“Now ask me another stupid-ass question, nigga!” Pam spat.
After robbing Temp of more than two grand, the women ordered him to turn around and get on his knees. Their faces were burned into Temp’s memory forever. He promised himself that he would get his revenge on them if it was the last thing he ever did. That was his final thought before pain shot through his skull and his world went black.
* * *
“Hey, buddy, you okay?”
That was the first thing Temp heard when he came to. His head felt like a cracked egg. “What the fuck?” Temp said to himself as he looked around. The images he saw were foggy. He shook his head a couple of times, trying to clear the cobwebs. Temp slowly messaged his temples. It was all he could do to try to get the room to stop spinning and the pain to subside. As his vision started to clear, his memory began to return.
“Ah, hell nah,” he said, disgusted with himself as his memory fully returned. Temp ran his hand along the back of his head. The bump back there felt like a golf ball had been glued to his scalp.
“Damn, what the hell happened in here?” asked the bartender, whose name was Joe. “The last thing I remember seeing was you and that cutie pie getting real chummy at the bar. I went to the back to replace a bottle, and when I came back, both of y’all was gone. Shit, man, I thought maybe you had gotten lucky or somethin’.”
“Nah, man, that bitch set me up. She and her girlfriend set my ass the fuck up!” Temp looked around and saw his watch lying on the floor. I wonder why them thieving-ass hoes didn’t take that.
“Let me help you up, buddy,” Joe said, reaching down to grab Temp’s arm. It wasn’t until that second that he realized he was still on the floor. With Joe’s help, Temp got to his feet. Although his head was clearing, he was still slightly wobbly.
“Maybe I should call an ambulance,” Joe suggested.
“Nah, man, I’m straight.”
Temp half walked, half staggered out of the bathroom and went back into the bar. The place was empty, and most of the lights were turned off, leaving Temp to surmise that the place was closed. He shook his head, trying to clear the rest of the cobwebs. When he felt his head was completely out of the fog, he started for the door. Just before he walked out, he thanked Joe for his assistance. Temp then hopped in his car and pulled off down the street. He drove with the windows down. The blast of air hitting him in the face brought his senses all the way back. Temp was almost home when he realized that he’d left his watch lying there on the floor.
“Fuck!” he screamed. The watch held sentimental value for Temp. It was one of the last things his mother gave him before she died.
He bent two corners and headed back to the bar. He only hoped that the bar hadn’t closed completely yet. With his mind clear, Temp started questioning a few things. There was one thing in particular that stuck in his craw. He made a mental note to ask Joe about it if he got to the bar before it shut all the way down for the night.
“Maybe he gotta clean up some shit,” Temp hoped.
Temp was about fifty feet from the front of the bar when he saw something that caused his blood to boil. Standing in front of the bar were Debra and Pam. In between them, with his arms draped around their shoulders, was Joe. Temp couldn’t be sure from this distance, but he could’ve sworn that Joe had his watch on. Instinctively, he reached under his seat for his hammer. Murderous thoughts flooded his mind as he chambered a round. He was all set to do a bloody drive-by when a wicked plan popped into his head.