True To The Game Part 25

Yes, they were into s.e.x, heavily into s.e.x, and definitely down for experimentation. What was Gena gonna tell them? It's 1990; you can catch AIDS! Like that would lead them in the right direction. They don't believe; they just don't believe, Gena thought. So she kept her mouth shut and always said, "Did the condom break? 'Cause if it did, you have six months to see if you'll die."

"No, Gena, it's not like that." Brianna just stared at her as if Gena was r.e.t.a.r.ded. "Dalvin was a virgin until he met me."

"He told you that?" Gena shook her head in disbelief, knowing game when she heard it.

"Of course he was a virgin. Are you crazy?" Brianna asked. This girl was out there. Gena's mental level could not deal with the minds of just-turned-seventeen-year-olds. They just knew they were grown. There was no reasoning with them, and what they wanted to do, they did.

Gah Git kept fussing, and Gena would get real tired of the whole routine inside the house, but outside it was worse. The brothers seemed so angry. People were frighteningly frustrated. The inner city streets were hard and represented hard times. Gena hated it, the way it looked, all scribbled on and wasted.

Gena had become a hermit like Gah Git. She hated going outside at night. It was always something. The brothers wasn't taking no shorts in the streets, either. They would rob you in a minute and victimize you for the smallest amount of materials or cash you may have. It was chaos and ma.s.s confusion.

She missed Quadir so much. It had been six months, going on seven, since his murder and nothing had changed. She still loved him and she still wanted him. She couldn't forget him. She talked to him every day and night.

Nightmares of Qua's death took the place of the happily ever after dreams, and Gena often woke in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, filled with a fear whose name she knew but wouldn't say: despair. When she lost Quadir, she lost it all, including her spirit.

The summer months were getting hotter, and it only added to her ennui. Maybe an air conditioner will help, she thought. She called Rik. It wasn't a problem.

"Two air conditioners?"

"Gena, that's not a problem."

"And five thousand dollars?"

"That's not a problem either, G."

No problem, Gena thought. Now that's what friends are for. "Thank you, Rik. I'm on my way," she said, hanging up the phone.

She ran into Gah Git's room. "You got some money?"

"No, baby. Not yet. I will when the mailman gets here, though. Today's the first of July," said Gah Git, playing with her false teeth.

Gena wasn't trying to hear it. She went outside and walked to the corner store. If she was lucky, she'd see someone who would loan her the money. She hated having to ask, but five dollars shouldn't be a problem since they were out there selling caps on the very corner of her block. She was wearing a pair of jean shorts with a Chanel T-s.h.i.+rt tucked inside and a fresh pair of Reeboks.

As she walked on the sidewalk, the kids were playing in the street. People were sitting outside anywhere they could find shade and a cool breeze. The summer heat was unbearable. Gena's Mercedes-Benz sat in the sun sparkling as if it were on a showroom floor. Gena crossed the street and walked up to the store like she was going in.

"How y'all doing?" she asked.

"Yo, Gena. What's going on, baby?" asked Rob.

"Nothing, just chillin," she said.

"Yo, Gena, think you could drop me off at my moms on Twenty-ninth and Lehigh?" he asked.

"Yeah, I could do that, but you gonna have to get some gas," she said.

"That's no problem. When you gonna take me?" he said.

"I'll take you now."

"Bet. Come on, let's go."

"No, Rob. You got to go get the gas and bring it back here before we can go."

"Girl, is you crazy? The nearest gas station is on Broad Street," said Rob looking at his boy, s...o...b...

"I'll go get the gas," she said.

"Yeah, you gonna have to, 'cause it's hotter than a motherf.u.c.ker out here. s.h.i.+t, I might fall out or anything," he said.

"How you rolling in a Mercedes-Benz with no gas, Gena?" s...o...b.. asked.

"Look, times are hard, okay?"

"Here, Gena," Rob said, as he handed her a five dollar bill.

"I'll be right back."

"Mmm, hmm," he said nodding as she walked off pocketing his five dollars. "s.h.i.+t, times must be hard. It wouldn't be no way. She walking to the gas station," he said shaking his head unable to believe it.

Gena walked six blocks to the nearest gas station and got a gallon of gas, which she carried in a milk container. She was tired from the walk. The hot sun blazed as she walked down the city street. She turned the corner as a black Mercedes-Benz turned the corner and pulled up along beside her. It slowed down, and Gena knew it was about to stop for her.

"Yo, Gena, you okay? You need a ride or anything?" asked the guy behind the wheel. With the sun blaring in her eyes she didn't know who it was until she bent down and saw Jamal smiling at her.

"Hi, Jamal," she said, with a smile back at him. It was good seeing him, especially since she was in true blue need of a ride. It had been a long time. So much had happened. She had changed, and one would hope that he had too. Of course he questioned the gasoline in the milk container before dropping her off in front of her car.

"I'll see you around," he said.

"Thanks, Jamal. I appreciate it."

She situated the gas problem, dropped Rob off and went straight to Rik's house. He had just moved into a nice house off the Main Line. Rik was all that. He was still hustling, of course. But he was so kind to Gena and she was truly grateful.

"Where's my kiss?" he said to her as she walked through the door. Gena and Rik sat for awhile talking about how time had changed things for the both of them. Gena, not really wanting to let him know how right he was about moving back home, sort of came out of nowhere and told him she was ready to move. Rik, just looked at her. He didn't want to say "I told you so," so he didn't question her at all. Just said they could contact a few realtors and start looking around for her new place tomorrow. Gena was excited and content with hearing that. For the first time in a long time she thought of all her furnis.h.i.+ngs in storage.

"Can I come up here with you Rik?" she asked, knowing his house had to be a couple hundred thousand at least.

"Yeah, there's some houses around here for sale," he said, thinking of the advantages of having Gena close by.

After she left Rik, she went to an appliance shop and bought two air conditioners. A big one for downstairs, and a small one for her bedroom. Gena felt good. Rik gave up loot, like Quadir always did. There was something about walking around with a couple thousand in your pocket. Gena had forgot the feeling.

She dropped the air conditioners off at Gah Git's, and went to Le Chevue. Everyone was real happy to see her. Bev wasn't there; she and Charlie had just a baby girl, so some girl named Lisa did her hair. When she was through, she stopped by her post office box to check for mail, something she rarely did. She had gotten a post office box when Quadir's mother, Viola, put her out, with her "mine, mine, it's all mine" routine. Gena hadn't checked on the box much. There was never any mail to her, just a lot of junk mail and mail for Quadir. Unlocking the box, she found thirteen envelopes.

Getting back into the safety of the Mercedes-Benz, she opened up each letter and scanned over the mail. There were three letters from a realtor and a Notice to Vacate addressed to Quadir Richards, 234 Green Street.

"d.a.m.n, what's this?" Gena whispered to herself. She started the car and went back to the house. She called the number on the notice, but got an answering machine. It was a real estate office, but the office was closed. Gena hung up the phone. She sat on the edge of her bed and read the Notice over and over to herself. 234 Green Street. She wasn't even sure what part of the city that was.

Gah Git had the air conditioners pumping cool air into the hot and stuffy housing project unit. "Keep that door closed," she hollered to Khaleer who liked running in and out. "Child, here, drink some water," she said to him. "You gonna fall out. It's too hot out there. Sit your a.s.s down and rest yourself some."

"I'm okay, Gah Git," he said walking toward the door.

"Boy, sit your a.s.s down and rest a minute," she said, rocking Brandi.

Gena came running down the stairs, "Gah Git, I'll be back," she said as she flew out the door with Quadir's diamond Q key chain in her hand. Gena got in the car again and dashed through the projects, not stopping at any stop signs and turning corners like police were chasing after her. People outside just watched as her car drove by them.

Gena drove straight to Green Street and followed it down to Second. Nothing looked familiar. Gena grabbed the notice in her jean shorts and looked at it: 234 Green Street was an apartment building. Now, she remembered. She remembered all too well. One night Quadir went into the same building and left her outside. She looked at Qua's diamond Q key chain.

Parking the car, she went to the front door. After several tries, she finally found the key that fit and unlocked the front door. Gena took the elevator up to the third floor. Apartment 307 was down the hall. She stood there not knowing what to do. Should I knock? What if it's some b.i.t.c.h, and she can't pay the rent since Quadir is gone? The thoughts went through her as she desperately fumbled with the key chain. She found the key. She turned it to the left and then to the right, the lock snapped, and the door opened.

The apartment was too fly. It was living the way living used to be. Leather furniture, a pool table, and a bar in the dining room. Vertical blinds at all the windows and track lights throughout, an eighty-inch-screen in the living room, and a sixty-inch in the bedroom. On the table sat a picture of Quanda and Quadir when she was first born. She'd never seen that picture before.

Looking around the living room, she noticed the fine layer of dust covering everything. She could tell the place hadn't been occupied. The garbage in the kitchen had an unbearable odor that filled the air. She opened some windows, letting in fresh air. The bathroom light wouldn't go on since there was no Quadir to pay the electric bill. The bedroom walls and ceiling were covered with mirrors. Gena noticed a picture of Cherelle with Quanda sitting on his bureau, causing her heart to sink. There was another picture of Quadir on the dresser with some other girl Gena had never seen before. She found a photo alb.u.m on a shelf, more girls. Pictures from Jones Beach in New York with every rapper and groupie on the East Coast and the Greek in Fairmount Park, the Greek in Virginia Beach, pictures at the Ruckers basketball games with the rappers, and the ballers from Kool Moe Dee to Alpo. There were pictures out in Vegas and Atlantic City at the Mike Tyson fights. Quadir was even on the West Coast in Cali with every one you could think of from Ice Tee to Ice Cube on down the line. The n.i.g.g.a was everywhere with everybody and had the pictures to prove it. She kept flipping the pages, scanning every pretty face and slim but voluptuous figure her man was leaning up against.

She put down the photo alb.u.m and began opening up the dressers. All the drawers were filled, and neatly arranged. The walk-in closet was lined in Dapper Dan leathers and a few fur coats. On the other wall were his tailor-made clothing at one end, and down at the bottom were about fifty boxes of shoes he had never bothered to place on his shoe racks. Qua had as many clothes here as he had at the house. The different outfits, the different clothing. The constant switch, never in the same car twice. All the things she saw once but never saw again popped in and out of her mind. She went around the rest of the apartment, looking in the closets, taking her time, remembering the clothes she had seen him wear. They were staring at her. She felt good, she felt bad, she felt miserable. She went back over to the closet and fumbled through his clothes, taking items and holding them up to her as if he were in them. Quadir's scent again. How wonderful life was just to have the scent of him again.

The apartment was filled with a mysterious aura. It was as if Qua was there, as if someone was watching everything she did. Gena thought she heard something. Her poor heart started pounding, she went out to the living room, but no one was there. She looked in the kitchen and then secured the chain on the door. Gena walked past another closet door, it wouldn't open. She tried every key until she found the key that fit the lock. Suddenly she felt a hand grasp her shoulder and let her free. Her heart pounded. Startled, she dropped the keys. She turned around as a cold chill went through her body. She looked behind her to see the apartment, as it was when she had first entered. She reached down and grabbed the diamond Q key chain. Finding the key, she opened the door and staring in her face was a gray safe. A safe that sat on the floor and stood above her. It looked like something from out of a bank. Gena couldn't believe it. She could not believe what she had found. The safe. Qua's safe. Quadir's money. She dropped to the floor in disbelief.

DeStephano put forth all his evidence. There were cross examinations, redirect examinations, over and over again. Finally, DeStephano called Sharice Harding to the stand. The prosecutor jumped up.

"I object. That name is not on the list." Counsel approached the bench. DeStephano explained the relevance of the witness' testimony and that suppressing her testimony would not be fair just because there were no prior statements made by her concerning the criminal matter. She had recently come forth with crucial information concerning the case. Finally, it was settled. Ms. Harding would be allowed to testify. Court would be adjourned for a brief recess.

Gena paced and continued pacing. Searching the apartment for anything and everything she could find. Startled by the knocking at the door, she looked out the peephole at a short, light-brown skinned man, wearing a pair of gla.s.ses that seemed to enlarge themselves through the tiny gla.s.speep hole in the door.

"Who is it?"

"Locksmith. You called?"

Well, it's about time, Gena thought to the door.

"You called about a safe?"

"Yeah. Hi. Thanks for coming."

"No problem."

Gena led him into the apartment.

"Is this your apartment?"

"Yes, it is. Why?" she asked leading him to the locked closet door where the safe was.

"I was just wondering. It's very nice," he said noticing that it didn't look lived in.

"You sure you can open my safe?" she asked.

"I need to see the safe."

Oh, great, thought Gena. Just what I need. "What do you mean, you got to see it?" she asked, unlocking the door.

"d.a.m.n, that's a big one. That cost a lot of money right there."

What cost a lot of money that wasn't worth having? thought Gena.

"You can get it open, right?" she said.

"Yeah, I can get it open."

"How?"

"Well, there's several ways to get into a safe. You can blow it open or you can use a torch," he said.

"Oh, is that what you're going to do?"

"I can. It's a lot quicker, the only thing is when you use those methods you risk damage to what's inside. You know, you can set what's inside on fire."

"Oh, no. We won't be going that route. That's not the way." Gena could see herself now, trying to salvage burning money. "How you gonna get it open?"

The courtroom was packed, as people swarmed among themselves finally taking their seats. All were present, waiting on Judge Pearlstein. Finally everyone rose, then after Pearlstein's journey to his bench, they sat. Counsel for the defendant called his witness. Sharice Wilson-Harding made an appearance of a lifetime. The b.i.t.c.h wasn't bulls.h.i.+tting. She strutted down the aisle in a pale blue linen suit, clutching a pale blue Chanel bag by her side. Her hair was done and her makeup looked like something from a beauty counter.

"Ms. Harding, do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?"

With her hand on the Bible, she answered, "I do."

"You may be seated."

And so the drama began, from, "State your full name," to, "On the night in question . . . ?" Forty sat there and listened very carefully to the examination conducted by the defense attorney. Sharice Wilson-Harding was a nurse. She lived in Texas with her husband and their four children. She had the story of life, and sis was definitely not to be f.u.c.ked with. Forty sat there intensely staring at her. He didn't like where DeStephano was leading.

"Mrs. Harding, on December 28, 1990, where were you?"

"I was in Dallas, Texas."

"Where were you, say, between the hours of ten PM and twelve AM on the night in question? Were you alone, Mrs. Harding?"

"No, I wasn't."

"Were you with your husband?"

"Objection, your Honor. This line of questioning is irrelevant. The crime took place in Philadelphia."

"I will allow the questioning, but please get on with it," said the judge, thinking about where to have dinner.

"I'll ask you again, Mrs. Harding, were you with your husband?"

"No, I wasn't with Charles."

"Were you alone?"

"No, I wasn't alone," she said glancing at the jurors, never once looking at Forty.

"Who were you with?"