Animal 2 Read online

  “And your pride has brought us to this point.” Priest held the gun up. “All you had to do was come to me, Charlie, and we could’ve worked something out. Mickey and his boys respect me.”

  “The same way the Clarks respect you, huh?” Charlie said slyly. “Just because I’m way up here in the sticks don’t mean my ears ain’t still to the streets. People are talking about Prince Shai and his lack of respect for his elders.”

  “How I do business with Shai Clark is no business of yours. I’m a soldier, and that’s just the way it is,” Priest said.

  Charlie laughed. “Do you hear yourself, Priest? Me, you, and Poppa Clark started this shit, remember? The hustler, the brain, and the killer . . . three the hard way, what happened to that? What happened to the dream of us all sitting around the round table breaking bread like real OGs?”

  “That dream died with Poppa Clark,” Priest told him before putting a bullet in Charlie’s chest. He put two more slugs in his body, mindful of his face so that his children could give him a proper funeral. Priest knelt beside Charlie’s body, kissed his fingers, and touched them to Charlie’s forehead. “Your debt is settled, old friend. Be with your wife now.”

  • • •

  Priest drove back to the city. Animal was silent for most of the ride. Every so often, he would look up at Priest, who was humming along with the oldies station that was playing on the radio like he didn’t have a care in the world. He was the epitome of contentment, after having just murdered one of his friends in cold blood.

  “You keep cutting your eyes over here like you’re thinking about either kissing me or taking a swing at me. I should hope for the latter,” Priest said.

  “What the fuck was that?” Animal asked.

  Priest glanced out the window. “Looks like a Ford to me, though it could’ve been a Dodge. The bodies on those models were similar.”

  “I’m not talking about the car. I’m taking about that bullshit you pulled back in Rye!”

  “Oh, that? Just a lil’ business that had to be taken care of,” Priest said, and went back to his humming.

  “So whacking somebody you’ve known over three decades is just a lil’ business? What kind of monster are you?” Animal asked heatedly.

  “I’m the same kind of monster you’re gonna have to become, considering the route you’re going,” Priest told him. “The law of the jungle is survival of the fittest, and you better damn well learn it if you plan on locking ass with Shai Clark, lil’ nigga.”

  “Fuck what you talking about, I could never murder a comrade like that,” Animal told him.

  “You don’t know what the fuck you’d do if your life depended on it,” Priest shot back. “Charlie was my main man, but his bullshit was interfering with my plans, much like Ashanti’s riding with King James is interfering with yours.”

  “So you trying to say I should murder Ashanti like you did Charlie to get Shai off my back?”

  “No, I’m telling you not to make the same mistakes I did and find yourself in a position to have to make that choice,” Priest said seriously. “Shai is a cold piece of work, and brute force ain’t gonna beat him. You’re gonna need to be cunning and patient.”

  “You said it yourself that time isn’t on our side,” Animal reminded him.

  “Tayshawn, you don’t have a reason to, but I need you to have faith in me right now. I’m going to take you back to the church so you can spend some time with your lady. I’m sure she misses you. Rest up, and I’ll come back in the morning to speak more of the plan.”

  Animal did miss Gucci. He didn’t want to sit idle and wait for Priest, but he didn’t have much of a choice at the moment. “Your word don’t hold that kind of weight with me just yet, but I’ll fall back for the time being. Just let me be clear on something. I won’t hesitate to take Shai’s life if given the opportunity, whether your plan works or not.”

  “Fair enough,” Priest agreed. “While I’m gone, I want you to think about what I said, Animal. In this world, the only person you can depend on to be stand-up at all times is you.”

  “I hear you, but there’s an exception to every rule. I can’t speak on what happened between you and Charlie, but I can speak on me and Ashanti. He’s hard as steel. That’s my brother.”

  EIGHT

  INTERROGATION ROOM A.

  “DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY times I’ve dreamed of having you in this position?” Detective Alvarez asked from across the steel table. He and Ashanti were in an interrogation room at the precinct, where they had been since his arrest a few hours before.

  Ashanti gave the detective his most serious stare. “Ain’t you gonna say ‘pause’ after that statement? It sounds suspect as hell.” He laughed.

  “Very funny, Ashanti, but you know what’d be funnier? If I jumped across this table and slapped that grin off your face,” Alvarez said in a low growl.

  Ashanti looked down at the shackle that went from his right wrist to the table. “The fact that you got me cuffed to this table and still got one hand resting near your gun, just in case, says you know how I’m built. Blood, the thought of you or anybody else putting their hands on me and not getting their face torn off is laughable. What else you got for me?”

  “I got life in a cage for you if you don’t tell me something good,” Alvarez threatened.

  “Detective, I know it’s a shortage of real niggaz for y’all to lock up, but it’s a sad day for law enforcement when the best you can do to get me off the streets is try to build a case off a bag of weed.” Ashanti laughed.

  “I ain’t talking about weed, dipshit. I’m talking about murder.” Alvarez slid several pictures across the table to Ashanti.

  Ashanti was still grinning when he leaned over to look at the pictures, but the grin quickly faded when he saw himself in one of them.

  INTERROGATION ROOM B.

  “Cain Collins.” Detective Brown read from the folder containing Cain’s rap sheet. “Grand larceny, assault, possession, grand theft auto . . . the list goes on. At seventeen, you’ve got a longer rap sheet than men twice your age. Your mother must be proud.”

  Cain simply rolled his eyes and remained silent.

  “Who was the other guy that was with you, the one who ran off?”

  Cain shrugged.

  “The strong, silent type, huh? Funny, I’d have taken you more for the pretty boy,” Brown said, taunting Cain.

  Cain’s muscles tensed as if he wanted to spring, but he kept his cool.

  “Oh, you don’t like people talking about your little beauty mark?” Brown reached to touch Cain’s scar, and he jerked away.

  “Keep your fucking hands off me!” Cain spit.

  “Shut up, lil’ nigga. You ain’t calling the shots around here. I am.” Brown jumped to his feet. “Now, you keep shooting that smart mouth off, and I’m gonna knock your teeth down your throat.”

  Cain looked up at the detective. “Is this the part where I’m supposed to get scared? You ain’t ’bout shit, toy cop!”

  Brown grabbed Cain by the neck and yanked him out of the chair. “There’s that big-ass mouth of yours again.” He gave Cain a good shake. Cain drew his fist back to strike, but before he could follow through, Brown had his gun drawn and pointed at his temple. “Go right ahead. Give me a reason to splatter you, sucka!” Cain wisely calmed down. “That’s what I thought, muthafucka.” He shoved Cain back down in the chair and sat back down himself.

  “What the fuck you want from me, man?” Cain asked with an attitude.

  “I want you to die in the fucking gutter, but I know I ain’t gonna get that, so I’ll settle for a name.” He slid a picture across the table to Cain.

  Cain looked at the picture. “Who the fuck is that?” He faked ignorance. He didn’t know the man in the picture’s name, but he knew his face.

  “That’s the muthafucka you and your cronies put to sleep a few days ago,” Brown said.

  Cain looked at the officer in disbelief. “Nigga, you got me fucked up. I don’t know
nothing about no murder, and if I did, what the fuck makes you think I’d tell you?”

  “The same reason they all tell me, son. You don’t wanna grow old in prison. See, you think you’re hot shit because you’re running with that little scum-fuck Ashanti, but you ain’t really ’bout that life. I know a killer when I see one. Ashanti, that kid is a murderer, but not you. You sweet, youngster. I can smell the sugar coming all off you.”

  “Fuck outta here with that shit,” Cain said, trying to keep his anger in check.

  “What, you mad? Like I give a fuck. If you’re really mad, get your black ass up outta that chair and do something,” Brown said, challenging him. Cain remained seated. “Just like I thought, pussy. Now, you can play that gangsta shit all you want, but I know your monkey ass. I see dozens of fuck-tards like you on a daily basis. Angry little piss-ants, born to less-than-shit-ass parents who were either too lazy or too dumb to use birth control, so it falls to good citizens like us to clean up their bullshit.”

  “You don’t know shit about me,” Cain spat.

  “Oh, but I know enough. You’re the son of a two-bit crack whore, who’d rather suck dick for a blast than make sure you ate a decent meal at night.” Brown laughed mockingly.

  The truth in Brown’s words cut Cain like a hot knife and sent him into a rage. Without even thinking about it, he was on his feet and leaping across the table. Brown was caught by surprise, so the first blow hit him square in the chin and knocked him out of the chair.

  INTERROGATION ROOM A.

  “Bullshit.” Ashanti slid the pictures back across the table. He had almost shit his pants when Alvarez said they were pinning a murder on him. He just knew when he looked at that picture that he’d see Percy’s pretty ass staring back at him, but it wasn’t. It was someone else.

  “Real shit, my friend. You were one of the last people to be seen with Rick Jenkins, and we got the picture, so don’t try to run game like you don’t know this cat.” Detective Alvarez jabbed his finger at the picture.

  Ashanti didn’t know the victim personally, but he had seen him at a dice game a few nights before. He had a big month and seemed shifty but hadn’t done anything to Ashanti personally, so there was no need to even talk to him, let alone kill him. The only reason Ashanti even remembered him was because Zo kept asking about him.

  “Man, just because you got a picture of me with him doesn’t mean I killed him,” Ashanti said.

  “Oh, I know you didn’t kill him, it isn’t your MO. You like big automatics; this guy was killed by a revolver . . . a .357, to be exact,” Alvarez informed him.

  INTERROGATION ROOM B.

  When the uniformed officers rushed into the room, they found Cain on top of Detective Brown, choking the life out of him. The first officer who tried to pull Cain off was rewarded with an elbow to the nose, sending blood flying. Within seconds, the officers dog-piled on Cain.

  “Hold that muthafucka up,” Brown ordered. The uniformed officers held Cain up with his arms pinned behind his back. “You got a nice right hook, kid, but mine is better.” He punched Cain in the face. He followed up with two blows to the ribs.

  “No more, man! I’ll talk. Just don’t hit me anymore,” Cain said. His lip was bloody, and he looked woozy.

  “That’s what the fuck I thought. Now, tell me something good,” Brown said, standing nose-to-nose with Cain.

  “A’ight, it went down like this . . .” Cain began, then spit his blood into Brown’s face.

  “You piece of shit!” Brown roared, and started raining punches down on Cain. Brown and the uniformed officers gave Cain an ass-whipping that he’d remember for a long time. He thought they were going to kill him, until someone came into the room, and the beating abruptly stopped.

  “What the fuck is going on in here?” the police captain asked. His white shirt was crisp, the gold badge on his chest freshly polished.

  “The suspect attacked me,” Brown informed the captain.

  “Bullshit, and you know it. This toy cop and his partner jacked me and my homie up for no reason. Then, when I wouldn’t sign a confession for something I didn’t do, he pulled his gun and threatened to kill me.”

  “Is this true?” the captain asked Brown.

  “Cap, you gonna take his word over all of ours?” Brown motioned to the uniformed officers. They would surely back up his lie.

  “You ain’t gotta take my word for it, just ask the eye in the sky.” Cain nodded to the security camera in the corner above the door.

  Brown had completely forgotten that they’d installed the new cameras in some of the interrogation rooms. “Look, Cap, I can explain—”

  “Save it.” The captain raised his hand to silence him. He pulled the detective to the side and whispered to him. “What do you have him in for?”

  “Right now, him and his buddy are in for weed, but—”

  “All this for some fucking weed? Have you lost your mind, Detective?” The captain looked like he wanted to smack the detective.

  “Sir, he is also a person of interest in a murder,” Brown explained.

  “And this was the best way for you to start your investigation? I’ve told you and your partner about this Nazi shit before, Brown. The last thing we need is more bad press on the NYPD.” He turned to Cain. “Sir, do you require medical attention?”

  “Nah, I’m straight.” Cain wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand.

  “It’s my duty to ask if you would like to press charges against this detective for striking you.”

  “Cap, you can’t be serious!” Brown was in disbelief.

  “Shut up, Brown. Sir,” he said to Cain, “do you want to press charges?”

  Cain thought about it. “Nah, where I’m from, blacks don’t send blacks to jail.”

  “Fine.” The captain nodded. “Brown, get this kid cleaned up, and turn him and his friend loose. Then I want to see you and your partner in my office.”

  “Yes, sir,” Brown grudgingly agreed. When the captain left, he turned his attention back to Cain. “You’re lucky, but luck only goes so far. I’m gonna see you again, nigga. Count on that.”

  “I hope so, because next time, the playing field will be even.” Cain made his fingers into the shape of a gun and pointed it at the detective.

  “Get this piece of shit out of here before I kill him,” Brown ordered the uniformed officers.

  INTERROGATION ROOM A.

  “By that dumb-ass look on your face, I can tell you know something, so you might as well spill the beans,” Detective Alvarez said with a smug grin.

  “I ain’t seen shit, and I don’t know shit.” Ashanti folded his arms.

  “Ashanti, you and I both know this is bullshit. You might not have pulled the trigger, but it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know who did. All I need you to do is say his name so I can lock his ass up and turn you loose.”

  Ashanti gave the detective a disbelieving look. “Man, you really got me fucked up. Since when you ever known me to be anything other than a stand-up nigga? I’m afraid I won’t be of any help to you on this one, Detective.”

  Alvarez knew threatening Ashanti wouldn’t do any good, so he tried another tactic. “What are you, eighteen now?”

  “Nineteen,” Ashanti corrected him.

  “You’re just a baby, but by the time you come out of prison for this, you’ll be an old man. You really wanna take that kind of weight for something you didn’t do? Now, you and I both know you didn’t pull that trigger, but this picture of you and the victim don’t look good. I think I can build a pretty solid case with it. What do you think?”

  “I think you need to stop trying to bullshit a bullshitter. If that were true, you’d have me in here for murder instead of weed. Now, stop insulting me, fam. You keep saying you want me to talk, so I’m gonna talk. Get me a fucking lawyer!” Ashanti demanded. He knew once he invoked his right to counsel, it would bring their little interrogation to an end and buy him some time. He needed to get word to Zo about
what was going on.

  “OK, tough guy, we’ll do this your way,” Alvarez said.

  There was a knock on the interrogation-room door, and a few seconds later, it came open, and Detective Brown poked his head in. “I need to holla at you, Jay.”

  Alvarez spared Ashanti one more glance before getting up and stepping outside with his partner. Through the door, Ashanti could hear raised voices. Something was going on, and he wasn’t sure what, which made him nervous. Five minutes later, Alvarez came back into the room, and he didn’t look pleased.

  “Raise up,” Alvarez ordered.

  “What’s going on?” Ashanti asked suspiciously.

  “I’m cutting you loose,” the detective said through clenched teeth. He undid the handcuffs and yanked Ashanti to his feet.

  “I guess it’s true what they say,” Ashanti said.

  “And what’s that?” Alvarez asked.

  “The sun even shines on a dog’s ass at least once.” Ashanti smirked.

  “Get the fuck out of here before you turn up missing.” Alvarez shoved Ashanti toward the door.

  “OK, I’m going.” Ashanti headed for the door. “You have a good one, Detective,” he said over his shoulder.

  “Fuck you, Ashanti! You think you’re getting away, but nigga, you’re on borrowed time. This isn’t over, not by a fucking long shot! And you tell your boy Zo-Pound that I’m coming for him. You hear me? Tell that muthafucka I’m coming!”

  • • •

  When Ashanti got outside, he was surprised to find Cain sitting on a police car talking to Fatima. Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun, so you could see her features: high cheeks, full lips, and perfectly sculpted chin. She was a fly little chick who lived in the neighborhood Ashanti and his crew did dirt in. She was only five-five, but the wedge boots she wore gave her two inches. She paced back and forth, shaking her head from side to side, causing her big door-knocker earrings to rattle. Her hands moved fluidly as she spoke heatedly to Cain. It seemed like the more she talked, the redder her face got. She was in her feelings.