Fool's Eye Page 19

  “Yeah, it’s off of Grand Avenue. We need to get a cab.”

  “Simon, do you really think it’s smart that we use a taxi right now? I think our best bet is to take the train. Besides, it will get us there faster anyway.”

  “Linda, you do realize what I have with me, don’t you? I don’t see how taking the train would be our best bet.”

  “Okay then, how are we going to get there? Fly? Look around you. Everybody has a briefcase. People are getting off of work right now. We won’t look any different than anybody else on the train. Now, give me one of those briefcases and come on.”

  I could tell he really didn’t want to take the train. Hell, neither did I, but what choice did we have?

  After 9/11, New York police started setting up various checkpoints throughout the five boroughs’ streets and subway lines. This meant, if they stopped you and asked you to open up your bag; you must comply or face getting arrested. And just our luck, New York’s finest were at the gate entrance doing just that.

  Chapter 24

  Simon and I had over a million dollars in each briefcase. If they stopped to question us, we would definitely have to go to the police station and explain why we were walking around with over two million dollars. That’s something we couldn’t take the chance of happening. Unfortunately for us, we didn’t look like we were supposed to be carrying around briefcases. So, to say we looked suspect was an understatement.

  Simon grabbed my hand. “What’s this?”

  “Right now, I need you to be really cool. Don’t even look at them.”

  “Linda, I think we should go back up and just take our chances with a cab. I think we would have a better chance than this. Come on. Let’s go.”

  I looked around the terminal for a second before I said, “Wait, I have a plan. Let’s go get our Metro cards.”

  Four Metro card dispensers were mounted on the north side of the subway terminal. There was a small line at each dispenser. I told Simon to go to the one on the far right while I used the left. When both of us had gotten our cards, I crumbled up a hundred dollar bill and let it fall next to me. When it hit the floor, I side kicked it between the next two Metro card stations.

  Then I asked the person standing next to me, “Excuse me, is that your money right there?”

  I said it loud enough for everybody in line to hear. The white man I had asked looked puzzled at first, but he looked down at the bill. He did just as I expected him to do.

  “Yes, that is. Thank you. I must have dropped it.”

  The lady next to him looked down at the bill and said, “Hey, wait a minute. I was just looking for my money. I must have dropped that out of my purse.”

  I walked away knowing what was going to happen next. The man and the woman started arguing over money that really didn’t belong to either of them, but like true New Yorkers, one of them was going to own that hundred dollars. It all depended on who was going to give up first. It looked like I picked the cream of the crop, because they actually starting yelling at each other. Soon, the police had to come and mediate the situation. As we passed the police, I grabbed Simon’s hand calmly, slid our Metro cards, and walked through the gates.

  “Nice thinking,” Simon said. “Now, what train do we need to get on?”

  “We can take the M, but I think we will have to transfer once we get to Brooklyn.”

  He came closer so only I could hear him. “I’ll be really happy to have this money in a safe place, because I’m shitting bricks right now.”

  I let out a deep sigh. “Me too, Simon. Me too.”

  When we finally got on the train, there was no sitting room. We stood near each other in silence while we rode. I had my mind on Malik, of course. There was no telling what Simon was thinking about, but he did have his mind on something. The way he shifted back and forth and the way he eyed everybody that boarded and exited the train, said that he was out of his comfort zone.

  When we got to Brooklyn, the train started to thin out. We were able to sit down, which made me happy. I had been standing, walking, or running most of the day. Not to mention being worried sick about Malik. I couldn’t wait to have him in my arms again. I wanted to have the chance to see his goofy smile again and for him to tell me that I looked beautiful. After this job, I thought we should go to Dominican Republic with Jessica and her mom while he recovered. That’s if we made it out of this alive.

  “Simon, we have one more stop. Then we need to transfer.”

  “It’s about time.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m just thinking about Martin. He really messed with the wrong guys, huh?”

  “Can we please not talk about him right now? I just want you to stay focused on getting Leblac. Oh shit!”

  “What?”

  “I forgot to call Mike.”

  “Call him now. What time is it?”

  “It’s 7:15. We still have enough time. Simon, something just came to mind. Why didn’t Mike tell us about the fight?”

  “I thought about that, too. The only thing I could come up with is that he didn’t believe we could come up with the money. Just call him and let him know everything is ready for tonight.”

  I called Mike and got lucky when he answered the phone. I didn’t want to say too much, but I wanted to let him know it was on for tonight.

  “Hey, Mike, how are you? Are you ready for the fight tonight?”

  “Linda?”

  “Yeah it’s me.”

  “Hey! Yeah, I’m ready. I didn’t think you knew about tonight’s fight.”

  “Of course we knew. We just forgot to call you, that’s all. It’s been a long day. We’re on our way now. Good luck.”

  “Thank you. Good luck to you, too.”

  When I got off the phone with Big Mike, I smiled at Simon. “We are good to go.”

  “So he knows the score?”

  “I told him we’re on our way there.”

  We were just about to hit our stop at Myrtle Avenue, when three guys dressed in red and black came into our car from a connected one. They looked over at us, and I knew they were trouble. Just our luck, we were sitting next to the door they entered. All three sported Yankee caps. Two of them had hats with white NY embroidered letters on them, but the one with the all-black Yankee hat approached me. He must have thought he looked good with his red t-shirt that read “Self Made” and some black skinny jeans that hung off his ass. Not cute.

  He looked intimidating until he smiled and said to me, “Hey, light skin, what’s your name?”

  His face became pleasant. His smile reminded me of Malik’s.

  “Not interested,” I answered.

  His boys were leaning against the door across from us, deep in their own conversation.

  “So, Ms. Not Interested, can I get your number or at least your Facebook name? We can chat online.”

  Simon did something I wished he wouldn’t have: he jumped in.

  “Look, dude, she said she’s not interested. So, back off.”

  The guy who was trying to talk to me was cool at first. “Yo, son, my bad. I didn’t know she was your girl. Respect.”

  Simon could have left well enough alone, but he had to push it. “She’s not my girl, but clearly she doesn’t want to talk to you, SON!”

  We were sitting there with almost two point five million dollars, and Simon seriously wanted to mock this man. If Simon just made a call for trouble, then trouble just answered the phone.

  “What did you just say, you punk muthafucka? Yo, Jay, this white boy thinks he’s tough. He just son-ed me.”

  Although he only called out one of his boys, both of them stood upright from their relaxed position and walked over to us.

  I tried to defuse the bomb by putting my hand up and saying, “He didn’t mean anything by that. Right, Simon?”

  “Nah, fuck that shit, ma. Nobody was talking to his punk ass. Now what did you say, white boy?”

  Simon looked at the guys walking toward him, and I saw
him grip down tight on his briefcase with one hand, while sliding the other one in his pocket. I knew what he was reaching for, and I didn’t stop him considering the mess we were in.

  Simon weighed his options and quickly concluded that fighting was not the best one. “Look, man, I didn’t mean anything by it. We just want to be left alone.”

  His boys were now surrounding us. I looked around to see if anybody would help us, but the few people who were on the train just watched the show. I even saw somebody pull out a camera phone and point it our way.

  I quickly turned my head and said to Simon, “Our stop is next, but we need to get off now!”

  One of the guys told the boy who was talking to me, “Yo, Bobby, if you don’t rock this white boy, I’m going to tell everybody on the block you got punked.!”

  That’s all it took. Without hesitating, the guy named Bobby threw a punch at Simon, but Simon was ready for it. He caught Bobby in the stomach with the knife. Bobby stumbled back some. Simon just stood there holding a bloody knife.

  “Come on, Linda,” he said in a scared whisper. “We have to go.”

  Bobby shouted, “This muthafucka…just…stabbed me!”

  “You dead, white boy,” Jay, one of Bobby’s boys, said as he magically made a gun appear.

  I could hear the other passengers gasping for air, but nobody said anything.

  When I tried to stand, Jay told me, “Sit down, bitch, before I pop one in your ass. You should have just given Bobby your number!”

  I blurted out loudly, “212-555-1392!”

  “Shut up! Nobody wants your broke-ass number now!” While waving his gun, he commanded to Simon, “Drop your knife before I blow your head off!”

  Simon did the smartest thing he’d done since I met him. He dropped the blade.

  Jay then shouted over his shoulder, “David, How’s Bobby?”

  David was the last of the trio who didn’t say anything until that point.

  “Man, he’ll live. It just barely broke the surface.”

  Bobby, on the other hand, wanted blood. “Shoot that nigga! He just stabbed me, yo!”

  Jay said, “Man, fuck that. You shouldn’t have been trying to holler at this bird anyway. But, homie is going to pay for your doctor bill. So, give me your wallet and your watch!”

  When Simon hesitated, Jay hit him over the head with the butt of the gun. “Nigga, you think I’m playing with you? You know what time it is!”

  Jay took a good look around him and found out he was being recorded.

  He shouted to his boy David, “Yo, D, go get that nigga’s phone. He’s trying to put a nigga on YouTube or Bossip or some shit.”

  David looked in the direction Jay was motioning and moved swiftly through the almost empty train. He told the kid, who looked no older than sixteen, to hand over the phone. When the kid resisted, David punched him so hard that his head hit the back window. The boy was out. David grabbed the phone and laughed at the stupid kid.

  “D, we good?” yelled Jay.

  “Yeah, we good. Now handle that so we can be out.”

  Jay looked down at Simon. “You heard the man. Un-ass yo’ shit!”

  I looked at Simon, begging him with my eyes to just give the man his wallet so we could get off the train. If they asked for what was in our briefcases, it would be over. They would have to kill Simon to pry that case from him. I would be dead if Ace found out I let that happen. The sad part was we were so close to our stop. It just seemed like it would never come.

  Still holding his head where Jay had hit him, Simon was seriously thinking about not giving up his wallet and watch.

  I tugged on his arm and begged him, “Simon, please, just give it to him. Now is not the time to act tough.”

  “Yeah, Simon, listen to your friend.”

  Simon gave Jay the look of death, but finally reached in his back pocket for his wallet.

  “I said your watch, too. Stop trying to play me before I reconsider putting one in that thick skull of yours.”

  At this point, I helped Simon take off his watch.

  “Here,” I said. “Now just leave us alone!”

  As soon as I said that, the train came to a stop, and the conductor announced, “This is Myrtle Avenue. Transfer is avail––”

  Jay wasn’t holding on to anything, so when the train stopped, he lost his balance. When he staggered, Simon knocked the gun out of Jay’s hand, grabbed his wallet, and punched Jay in the face. Then he grabbed my hand and rushed me off the train just before the door closed. The only problem was that David got off the train, as well. As the train started pulling off, I watched Jay tell David through the door to “fuck them up.”

  Simon had other plans. He saw David and smiled. Simon handed me his briefcase and charged David. I could tell David wasn’t expecting that from Simon. He backed up nervously into the pole that was right behind him. With the speed and the amount of anger Simon had built up inside of him, I swear I heard thunder when he hit David.

  Pinned up against the pole, David’s head became a human punching bag. I ran up to Simon, totting the two heavy briefcases and begging him to stop, telling him that was enough and we had to go. Somehow he heard me and let David fall to the ground. But, he didn’t leave until his foot came crashing down hard on David’s face.

  Simon then turned to me, smiled, and said, “I think it would be safer to take a cab the rest of the way.”

  Chapter 25

  My hands shook as I hailed a cab. The look in Simon’s eyes scared me more and more by the second. The way he beat that poor boy was like something I’d seen in a movie. He reminded me of Edward Norton at the beginning of American X, nothing but pure hate. I really hoped Ace knew what he was doing, because if Simon found out what was going on before we could part him from the rest of his cash, somebody was going to end up dead.

  A Liberty Cab stopped and took us to our destination with no problems. When we got out of the cab, we walked to the entrance of the building and knocked three times on a rusty steel door. After a few moments, the door cracked open and a husky voice sounded through the crack.

  “Password?”

  Simon and I looked at each other and shrugged. Then it came to me.

  “Yellow kid.”

  When the door opened, we faced the same scar-faced doorman from the first fight.

  “Good evening,” he said as he moved to the side and allowed us to enter. Inside was a small boxing gym that had been transformed into a miniature-caged arena. A slight scent of musk was still in the building, but I could tell it hadn’t been used in years. Ace, Jim Payne, and a few other men sat near the cage, engaged in conversation, when Ace noticed us.

  “How did you two get in here?”

  “The password, that’s how. Where is everybody?” Simon asked.

  Ace moved swiftly toward us. “This is a private event, and you’re not invited. Please, excuse yourselves.”

  Simon’s short temper ignited again. “My money’s not good enough for you?”

  “Son, you don’t have the kind of money you need to be here,” Ace responded with a smile.

  Simon countered, “Well, old man, I have $2.5 million that says I do.”

  Jim Payne was listening to the conversation, jumped out of his seat. “Leblac, before you get any ideas, we’ve already placed our bets.”

  “Mr. Daniels, relax. He may be Newman’s son, but he doesn’t have his father’s kind of money.”

  Simon walked to an empty table and propped the briefcases on it. “See, that’s where you’re wrong. I do have it, and I bet it all on Manuel to win. What are the odds?”

  “Three to one,” answered Ace.

  “That means if I win, that’s $7.5 million.”

  “But, if you lose, you lose that money plus you will still owe me that two hundred thousand from yesterday.”

  “I’ll pay you. What? You think I don’t honor my debts? I’ll tell you what. I will pay you what I owe you now, so then we will be on an even scale. But, when I win,
how long will it take you to pay me?”

  “Tonight…I could pay you tonight. That will never happen, because you won’t win.”

  Mr. Daniels spoke up again. “So, you’re going to bet him? What about our bet?”

  “I’m in the taking mood tonight, so I will take both bets. Is that all right with you, Mr. Daniels?”

  “As long as you can cover my bet, I’m fine with that.”