"Hook you up how?"

"I'm trying to see your girlfriend."

"Who?"

He suddenly noticed her wrist. "G.o.dd.a.m.n! That motherf.u.c.ker is all that."

"Isn't it?"

"You playin' with this piece right here. This is some real high-powered s.h.i.t. d.a.m.n, let me step the f.u.c.k back!" She stood there laughing and smiling as Charlie ga.s.sed her head up. Finally getting back to the point of why he stepped to Gena, he asked, "Are you gonna hook me up or not?"

"Hook you up with who?"

"Baby, it don't matter. Give me a quiet one. Y'all women got too much mouth these days, always yappin'. Give me one that don't talk."

"What? We're not supposed to talk?"

"Yeah. When somebody says something to you."

Charlie spotted a girl who attracted him. "Hook me up with her?"

Gena smiled. Charlie had chosen Bev from LeChevue and she never shut up. "Beverly." Gena took her girlfriend's hand and made a complete introduction. She left them there to talk as she walked over to Quadir. Coming up behind him, Gena put her arms around him, bent down and started licking his ear. "I'm ready to go home," she whispered.

They began to say good-bye to everybody who'd come out to get a free lobster and champagne meal. Qua told her, "I'll be back. I'm going to take care of the bill so we can go home." Gena turned to see Andrea watching her slink into her to-the-floor mink.

"You leaving?"

"Yeah, we're going on home."

"I know you've had a happy birthday, and the s.h.i.t ain't until tomorrow.''

"Yes, this is true." She jingled her bracelet for Andrea. "Qua really surprised me. First the bracelet, the outfit, and to top it off, dinner with all our friends. This was enough."

"You're so lucky."

"I'm blessed."

Rik was just hanging up the pay phone outside the dining room. "Yo, check it out." He pulled Quadir over to him. "Rich Green is no longer a member of the life force as it exists on this earth."

"Dead?"

"Through the heart and through the head. n.i.g.g.a said since he f.u.c.ked his baby mom, he shot him in the d.i.c.k too."

"d.a.m.n."

"Quadir, don't look so sad, 'cause the n.i.g.g.a was plotting. Always riding around the same corners, all d.a.m.n day and night. Trust me, the boy Rich had a list. Junie was locked up with my brother and told him everybody was on the list. s.h.i.t, the n.i.g.g.a's list was so long, by the time the Junior Mafia finished, it wouldn't be n.o.body left."

Quadir said good-bye to Rik and shook hands with a few other brothers before finding Gena. Getting into the car Gena looked at her man. "I can't believe you did all of this for me."

"Gena, tonight was nothing compared with what I have in store for us. This is just the beginning."

THE CHEDDAR WILL BE BETTER.

Qua sat in the living room of his secret hideout, and placed the counting machine on the table. Pulling a chair, he organized all the money in the safe. He plugged the counting machine into a socket, sat back, and watched it do its job. Two hours later the total was looking him in the face. Got to be a mistake, he thought. But, there was no mistake. He was speechless. The machine totaled his money at 17.2 million dollars. "I'm a millionaire," he said to the fish in the tank. He had an idea but had never counted the money that was in the safe. He wanted to jump, shout, knock himself out!

Then he sat down and began counting it again. The total was the same. He ran his hands through the bills, stuffing them into his pockets, his shirt, his baseball cap, in his jeans, all hundred-dollar bills.

In front of the mirror, seeing all these green pieces of paper falling out of his clothing, he thought to himself, All that money. Drug money! There's a lot of paper in the ghetto.

Quadir sat back and looked at all the stacks of money surrounding him. The years of hustling had paid off. People spend their entire lives working to retire and still don't have s.h.i.t. Quadir, on the other hand, had hustled for five years, and could retire at the age of twenty-five a millionaire, never working an honest day in his life. He sat down on the sofa in the sea of money scattered around him. It made him nervous. For the first time, he saw his wealth and for the first time, he saw what he really was: a drug dealer. He knew it was wrong. All that he did for the hustle was a constant reminder of his own greed. Down to his last 200 kilos of cocaine, he didn't want to purchase any more. For $3,800 a kilo, who wouldn't? But with seventeen million staring down your throat, why? He was not thinking of finances. He was thinking about the Junior Mafia. He knew that it was a matter of time before he was a direct target. Things were getting real complicated in the streets. The police were downright dirty. They would stick you up, set you up, and give you a case.

The brothers were just as bad. Everybody had guns. Everybody. Even little kids had guns. Your life meant nothing. It was all about money, who had it and who didn't. Not only had Quadir beat the odds, but also lived to tell about it, not owing any debts and not owing any favors. That in itself was a task, as most of Quadir's friends were dead or in jail.

He thought of Tony Santero and the Cartel. He thought of Barranquilla, Colombia and Carlos Escobar. He met Tony's uncle, Carlos Escobar, only once. Carlos was so captivating, even with his intense dislike for the United States. Quadir totally enjoyed his conversation. The man had everything he wanted and desired at his fingertips. Tony's mother was an Escobar. She married a Santero and had three sons. Two of the sons and her husband were killed in a boating accident on the Panama Ca.n.a.l in 1968, when Tony was a little boy. She and her only son then moved with her brother, Carlos. Carlos raised Tony like his own son. He turned over some of the family affairs to Tony, who took on the responsibility of serving the United States. Through governmental and diplomatic contacts, Tony was free to serve countries. Carlos had two brothers and three sons all of whom controlled and shared the Colombian drug profits.

After Quadir understood the trade game, he understood who had the power. It definitely was not the brothers. The brothers got caught up too, but not just them. It seemed like everyone was getting high. The upper cla.s.s, not just the poor, contributed and depended on it. He thought of the sisters who were out there using and selling their bodies for a gusto, the brothers and sisters who were robbing their own mothers and grandmothers. He thought of his financial destiny: matches torn in two. He thought of the seventeen million dollars. s.h.i.t was too good to be true.

How could he stop? How could he tell Tony? What would he say? What would he do? For three weeks, Quadir continued business as usual. Dropping his price down to ten thousand dollars a kilo. Everybody and their mother was trying to see Rasun and Reds, who had basically taken over the Av. Quadir couldn't figure it out. Seemed like out of nowhere, not only were they selling his s.h.i.t, but also buying s.h.i.t from him and doing their own thing. Rik and Forty were tearing up the drug game down Richard Allen. After the death of Rock, Rik and Quadir paid out two hundred thousand dollars to have five members of the Junior Mafia a.s.sa.s.sinated. Within the past three weeks in the city there had been twelve drug-related murders, all of which directly involved the Junior Mafia.

Quadir was tired of the small circuit. He was tired of the drug game. He wanted to not have to walk or drive so fast. He didn't want to look over his shoulder or peek around corners. He was ready to take his money and sit back, enjoy life.

Finally, Qua paged Tony and sat back and waited. An hour later, Tony Santero was telling him that he would be there in three more weeks.

"That's what I was calling to speak to you about."

"Is there something wrong, Quadir?"

"It's like this. I'm not going to re-up."

"What? What the h.e.l.l do you mean, retire?"

"What I said, Tony. I'm done, man. I'm finished. I can't take it anymore. This s.h.i.t is really starting to get to me. It's like, every day and every night, I got people chasing me down. Gimme this and gimme that. And then there's the Junior Mafia. They been knocking off my family."

"Well, kill them back," Tony said, not understanding.

"Everyone is going for self. Things are changing. They are losing honor. Everybody's snitching now, and then there's Gena. I'm not spending any time with her. I want to retire alive."

"Yeah. Yeah, I know. That's one nice-looking girl you got there. She's real nice, man. You know I would love to f.u.c.k her."

"Yeah, but you can't, so why feel it?"

"See, that's the problem with you black guys. You don't like to share, do you?"

"I'll share some p.u.s.s.y with you, Tony. Just not that p.u.s.s.y."

"Well, are you sure that's what you want to do?"

"Yeah, I'm positive."

"Well, how can I say this? Um, you can't do nothing, man; you can't lie to me. But, if you're really stopping and you want out, then fine, okay. Give me five million dollars and you are free to go." Five million rolled out of his tongue behind the Colombian accent, as his voice grew stern. "And, remember, you're retired. I find out that you're lying to me, you know you'd be betraying me and my family. You know I'll know what you're doing?"

"Tony, on my life, you took care of me and you helped me. I would never cross you. Why not two?"

"No, for you, four million, Quadir, and no less."

"Three."

"Four."

"Three and a quarter."

"Three and a half and that's it."

"Okay, three and a half it is."

"Take it to the Princess docked at the harbor. Give it to my cousin Sancho; take his number."

Breathing easier, Qua thanked him.

"Keep in touch, Q, and remember what I said. You're retired."

Quadir separated three and a half million dollars, and put the rest back in the bags and locked it in the safe.

Gena was glad to be out of chemistry cla.s.s and drove straight home. She marveled at the sight of Qua's keys on the vestibule table. "Quadir, are you here?"

"Yeah!"

"Where are you?"

"Down here!"

"What's up?"

"Come here, baby, we got to talk."

She joined him in the playroom, wondering what was up, and walked into his arms.

"I've been thinking lately, Gena. You know, I haven't been home a lot lately. I've been so busy taking care of business that I haven't been taking care of you."

True enough, thought Gena, taking a seat. So, he's finally fessin' up about the b.i.t.c.h Cherelle.

"I talked with Tony today. I told him I was done. Finished. Out of the game. The c.o.ke I got, I'm going to get rid of, and then that's it."

Gena couldn't speak, her mind racing to compute the implications of his retirement from the game. Did I push him too far? Did I demand too much? Will they let him retire? Where will all that shopping money come from, if he stops? She kept her cool and listened to him.

He slipped a small baby-blue box out of his pocket. He opened it and showed her the contents. "Will you marry me, Gena?" He took the ring out of the holder and slipped it on her finger.

"I have never seen a diamond this big before!"

"It's ten karats."

Gena was in shock. She couldn't believe he was coming at her with marriage.

"Gena, you haven't answered my question. Do you want me to get on one knee?"

"Qua, please," she smirked. "You would get on one knee?"

He bent his knee to the floor before her, and said, "Janel Louise Scott, will you marry me?"

"Quadir, please get up. You're going to make me cry."

"Not until you answer me, not until you say you'll marry me. You're all that matters to me, and I want you to be my wife."

His face told her this was not fun and games; he was serious. "Yes, Quadir Montell Richards, I will marry you." She got down on her knees with him and put her arms about him.

The ringing phone broke the reverie. He smiled, watching her run upstairs as he picked up the phone.

"h.e.l.lo?"

"I need some money for your daughter, Quadir," said a female voice.

"Look, don't ever call my home again," he said as he slammed the phone down. It immediately rang again.

"h.e.l.lo."

"Don't f.u.c.king tell me not to call there, motherf.u.c.ker. You got a child that you don't do s.h.i.t for," said the girl.

"Look, Cherelle, if you need something for the baby, I will send it to you. I will call Rasun and he can bring you whatever you need."

"No b.i.t.c.h, you bring it. Rasun didn't f.u.c.k for this baby, you did."

"Who you think you're playing with?"

"Who am I talking to? Ain't n.o.body else on the G.o.dd.a.m.n phone."

"I told you if you need something, then page me. I'll see to it that you get it." He hung up as the phone rang.

"b.i.t.c.h, stop calling my motherf.u.c.king house."

"Yo, Qua. Man, it's me, Rik."

"Oh. What up?"

"d.a.m.n, my brother havin' problems today?"

"Yeah, Cherelle. She is f.u.c.king with me again. She got the phone number somehow."

"How did she get the number?"