Sinking Fast
“Oh my Jesus! What are we going to do?” Kika ranted.
She and Nazir were in a hotel room on the outskirts of the city. Nazir peeped out of the curtain like Malcolm X. He held a .45 in his hand, while Kika sat on the bed with her hands nervously twittering in her lap.
“Everything’s gonna be cool, Kiki,” Nazir assured, calling her by the nickname he gave her.
Kika jumped off the bed. “Don’t Kiki me, nigguh! Ain’t nothin’ cool! I told you those streets were like quicksand; once you get in you can’t get out! Now look at us, sinkin’ fast!”
“I’ma take care of this, okay? You just gotta take a few sick days until I do,” he replied.
“I can’t just take off, Nazir! You just gonna have to go to the police!”
He shot her a crazed glare. “The police? What the fuck are you talkin’ about?”
“Nazir, please! Somebody tried to kill you! It ain’t about snitchin’. It’s about survivin’!” she reminded him.
Nazir spazzed.
“Look ma, I ain’t going to the police. I ain’t goin’ to church, and I damn sure ain’t goin’ to no gaddamn Jesus! Those were real bullets. They were shooting at us, do you understand? Nobody can save us but us!” he bassed.
The clarity of his logic and the force of his words didn’t make Kika agree with him, but she couldn’t argue either. She folded her arms across her chest. “You didn’t have to use the Lord’s name in vain,” she replied.
Seeing that he had hurt her, his whole mood softened. He took her by the arms gently and looked her in the eyes.
“Listen, Ki. I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to go that hard. Shit is crazy right now. I know you believe. I know you have faith in me right now, okay?”
She looked at him for an extra beat, nodded, then her face broke into an amused smile.
“What?” Nazir asked.
“How you gonna be my protector now? Seems like just yesterday I was pullin’ Fat Tammy off your ass!”
They laughed.
“Naw, that don’t count. That bitch was like six-two, 450 pounds in the third grade! Shit, you might still have to pull her off my ass now!”
Kika laughed to tears.
He stroked her cheek and gave her a dimpled grin. “See? That’s what I like to see, you laughin’. I’ll be back, okay?”
“Okay.”
He started to walk out.
“Nazir.”
He looked back.
“Faith ain’t all I got.” She smiled.
He winked and walked out.
Nazir had been trying to get at Tariq, but once the phone went from just ringing to saying not in service, he headed to the only place he knew he could get word to Tariq.
Cookie’s crib.
He knew Cookie was Tariq’s ride or die chick. He didn’t know about her and Tariq being arrested. All he knew was Tariq was like a big brother to him, and even though he had never met him face to face, Santiago was an OG he looked up to and respected. He pulled his ’08 BMW up to Cookie’s building and got out, keeping his eyes peeled. He kept his hand on the butt of his pistol as he went inside.
Of course the elevator didn’t work, so he had to take the stairs two at a time to the eighth floor.
“Goddamn, I got to work out.” He chuckled, winded from the sixteen flight climb. He walked down the hall to the apartment on the end and knocked.
A few seconds later, he heard, “Who is it?”
“Nas.”
“Who? I don’t know you,” she replied, obviously looking at him through the peep hole.
“I know. I’m looking for Tariq. Call him, he’ll vouch for me,” Nas assured her.
Nazir heard the bolts of the locks sliding and clunking free. She opened the door, and Nazir had to hold his tongue. What the fuck happened to you? he wanted to say.
Cookie was still sexy, but she had lost weight, and her eyes had the shifty gaze of a crack head. Nazir couldn’t believe his eyes.
“What you want Tariq for?” she snapped.
“Is he here? I need to holla at him,” Nas answered.
“No. What you need to holla at him about?” she probed.
He really wanted to curse her nosy ass out, but he respected Tariq too much, so he took a deep breath and replied, “Just tell him I came by.”
“You got a number he could reach you at?”
“Yeah . . . 555–3811.”
“Mm–hmm,” Cookie said, looking him up and down. How old are you anyway? Anybody ever tell you, you look like Nas?”
He smirked, thinking, Has anybody told you, you look a hot mess?
“Naw,” he lied, knowing he got that all the time.
“You holdin’?”
“Naw yo, just tell Tariq I came though.”
“If I remember,” she retorted, rolling her eyes and slamming the door.
*****
Once Naz left, Cookie grabbed her phone and speed dialed Bas. He answered on the third ring.
“Yo.”
“Daddy, this Cookie. You said to call you if anybody come looking for Tariq, right?”
“Yeah, who was it?”
“I don’t know his name. The young boy Tariq deal with, the one that look like the rapper Nas,” Cookie explained.
“Nas.”
“That’s what I just said.”
“Naw, that’s his name.”
“I know.”
“Never mind,” Bas growled.
Cookie shrugged it off.
“So when am I gonna see you?” Cookie cooed, her pussy getting wet just thinking about it.
At first, she didn’t even pay Bas much attention, but when he caught her one night at the Vortex club, ten minutes later he had her climbing the bathroom stall trying to get away from that monster between his legs. Ever since then, she craved their side thing.
For Bas, she was strictly a means to an end. Since Tariq liked to get high, he wanted Cookie to put him on the high hardest to come down from—a crack high. Now that she had accomplished that, she was useless to him.
“When I can get away.”
“I can’t wait.” She laughed.
Bas hung up. “I can,” he said aloud, wondering what to do with dead weight AKA Cookie.