Addicted to an Addict Page 11

  “Jeremiah is a smart man.” Gypsie tried to walk away again, but Josiah wouldn’t let her.

  “We still need to talk. I’ll see you in the morning. Sleep well.”

  * * *

  Gypsie sat up in bed and looked around frantically. She checked the time on her cell phone on the nightstand. It was a few minutes past midnight. She wondered who in all of creation would have the nerve to ring the doorbell at this hour. Could Josiah have lost his house key? Gypsie hopped out of bed and slipped her favorite caftan over her nightgown. The persistent midnight mystery person was ringing the bell like crazy. She picked up her pace as she trotted down the stairs.

  “I’m coming!” Gypsie yelled, entering the code to deactivate the security system.

  “I want to see my damn children right now!”

  Gypsie’s body went completely still as the familiar voice yelling on the other side of the door registered. Oh my God, it’s Mrs. Bishop! Anxiety swooshed through her veins. Gypsie still couldn’t move even as the doorbell rang continuously, and the yelling grew louder.

  “JoJo! JoJo! JoooJooo! I know you’re in there! I want to see Gem and Treasure! I’m their mother, damn it!”

  Gypsie inched toward the door and looked through the peephole. It was dark, but she was able to make out Mrs. Bishop’s form. Gypsie turned on the outside light. The moment she did, she regretted it. Mrs. Bishop looked a hot mess. She was pencil thin, and her usually coiffed hair was all over her head. Her skin looked dark and very dry. An older model Cadillac bouncing on hydraulics with expensive rims was parked in front of the house.

  “The girls are in bed, Mrs. Bishop,” Gypsie said loud enough for her to hear through the door. “They’ve been asleep for a while. And your husband isn’t home, ma’am.”

  “Who the hell are you? Where is Miss Gladys?”

  “It’s Gypsie, Mrs. Bishop. Miss Gladys isn’t here.”

  “Let me see my girls, Gypsie. I miss them. Open the door.”

  “I don’t want to wake them. Why don’t you call Mayor Bishop and set up another visit.”

  Mink pressed the doorbell and held it. “You have no right to keep me from my children! Open this damn door, heifer!”

  Gypsie ran into the den and grabbed the cordless phone. She dialed Josiah’s cell phone number and hurried back to the door. The phone rang several times before the call rolled over to voicemail. Gypsie hung up but immediately dialed the number again. While she waited for her boss to pick up, his wife continued her rant and pressed the doorbell. Frustrated that Josiah had failed to answer the second time, she put her big girl panties on and dialed Jeremiah’s number.

  “This is Jeremiah Bishop,” he greeted coolly.

  “Jeremiah, this is Gypsie. Mrs. Bishop is outside on the stoop yelling like a hood rat, demanding to see the girls. And she won’t stop ringing the damn doorbell. I’m afraid she’s going to wake the neighbors. Jo . . . I meant Mayor Bishop doesn’t need the negative attention. I called him, but he didn’t answer his phone.”

  “Fuck! JoJo’s phone is in his pocket on vibrate mode while he’s working the room. Tell that fool, Mink, if she doesn’t leave now, you’re going to call the police on her ratchet ass. Tell her. I’ll hold on.”

  “Okay.” Gypsie looked through the peephole. “Mrs. Bishop, I can’t allow you to see the girls because they’re asleep. I’m sorry, but if you don’t leave right now, I’m going to call the police.”

  “How the hell are you going to call the police on me for coming to my house to visit my children, you little red bitch?”

  “I’m about to dial 911 right now, ma’am. You’ll be arrested for criminal trespassing, disturbing the peace, and maybe a few other offenses. I’m sure you don’t want that.”

  All of a sudden, the doorbell fell silent. Mrs. Bishop’s screaming stopped too. Gypsie watched her closely through the peephole. Seconds ticked by before there was any movement on the other side of the door. Then in obvious defeat, Mrs. Bishop turned and walked away. She got into the car quickly, and it sped off.

  “What’s going on, Gypsie?”

  “She left.”

  “Thank God. Well, JoJo is standing here with me now. I just told him everything. He’ll be home shortly.”

  * * *

  It had been a week since Mink had missed the visit at McDonald’s with Josiah and their daughters. And her life had sunk even deeper into the hellhole of heroin. In the eyes of any normal human being, she had hit rock bottom. Her apartment, although well furnished, was nasty as hell and the stench from days’ old trash was beyond foul. Mink was hungry too. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten a decent meal. Hell, she couldn’t even recall her last shower. But even in the midst of living through the worst days of her life, the only thing she could think about was how she could score her next fix. What dealer could she sleep with in exchange for a taste? She didn’t have any friends she could borrow money from because she’d burned too many bridges. Maybe she could steal a few things from the CVS Pharmacy around the corner and sell them to some strangers. It was hard to be a junkie incognito. No matter how much she hated Josiah at the moment for kicking her out of their home, she still loved him at the same time. So she didn’t want to cause him any embarrassment.

  Mink pulled herself from the bed that was covered with filthy, stinking linen, and went into the bathroom. She stripped out of the funky pajamas she’d been wearing for days and turned on the shower. When she stepped into the bathtub, she cringed at the thick ring of dirt around it. She was surprised when she reached for the soap, and there wasn’t a bar there. Then she remembered that she had sold all sixteen bars to the single mother downstairs for seven dollars to buy a fifth of cheap vodka. With no soap or a washcloth, Mink showered, using her hand to rub warm water all over her body. Tears began to spill from her eyes as reality slapped her in the face. She was a serious addict, yet her sole goal for the day was to get high. And she would . . . somehow.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “So as you see, Mayor Bishop, this plan could advance Atlanta to the top of the list of World Cup host contenders. This city has just as much to offer as any other city around the globe. What do you say, sir?”

  Josiah leaned back in his chair in deep thought. The idea of the city of Atlanta hosting soccer’s biggest and most popular competition on the planet would be his greatest accomplishment. He couldn’t even begin to calculate the tens of millions of dollars the city would rake in as a result.

  “This could be huge, JoJo,” Jeremiah whispered from his brother’s right side.

  Josiah looked around the conference table. Everyone, including Connor, who was always a skeptic, was nodding their approval.

  “Prepare the proposal for city council, Brock.”

  All in attendance seemed to release a sigh of relief in unison after hearing the mayor’s words. Everyone smiled and applauded. In the midst of the celebration, the intercom buzzed. Josiah frowned because he’d specifically told Gypsie and the clerical staff that he wasn’t to be disturbed during the meeting. But then he realized that his dutiful administrative assistant would only go against his wishes in the event of an emergency. Josiah immediately thought about Gem and Treasure. He looked at Jeremiah and tilted his head toward his desk.

  “Excuse me, everyone.” Jeremiah left the conference table and walked over to his brother’s desk.

  Josiah returned his attention to the meeting, trying his best not to worry about the phone call Jeremiah was now on. He heard his muffled voice, but he couldn’t make out his words. Whatever was going on, Jeremiah was more than capable of handling it. That’s exactly why Josiah had ignored all of the criticism from his haters when he hired his twin to be his chief of staff. He would’ve been a fool not to have given the position to the one person in the world he trusted above everyone else.

  “We’ve got a situation, JoJo. You’re going to have to wrap this up.”

  His thoughts had so consumed Josiah as he tried to focus on the meeting that h
e didn’t notice when Jeremiah ended the call and walked up behind his chair to whisper in his ear.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Man, I can’t get into it until you get these folks out of here. It’s serious, bruh. It’s really, really serious.”

  “Okay. Give me a minute.”

  “Time ain’t our friend, man. Tell these people we have a family emergency so they can get the fuck up out of here.”

  Josiah nodded. “Ladies and gentlemen, a family emergency, which requires my immediate attention, has come up. I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to adjourn this meeting prematurely.” He stood. “I’ll have Miss Gypsie Robinson, my administrative assistant, contact each of you to schedule a follow-up meeting. Thank you all for coming. If you’ll follow my senior aide, Connor Spivey, he’ll walk you out.”

  Connor hopped up and stared at his boss with confusion clouding his countenance. His red eyebrows furrowed above his green, questioning eyes, but he didn’t utter a word. He simply motioned for their guests to follow him out of the conference room.

  The moment the door closed behind the group, Josiah turned and faced Jeremiah. “Is it one of the girls?”

  “Hell nah! You and I would be halfway to the school by now if it were Gem or Treasure. It’s Mink, bruh.”

  “What the hell did she do this time?”

  “She owes this dude some money for drugs, and he ain’t playing with her ass, man. Over the weekend, she went on a shooting-up binge for a grand and some change. Then she got up this morning and tried to haul ass without settling her debt. She’s so fucking stupid!” Jeremiah slammed his fist on the conference table. “That dumb-ass trick told the hustler that she was your wife. So he had the balls to call here to speak to you, hoping to collect.”

  “And if I refuse to pay him?” Josiah stood up. He stuffed his hands inside his pockets and started pacing the floor.

  “He said he’d put you and Mink on blast through the hood media.”

  “How much?”

  “Thirteen hundred.”

  “Let’s go. I’m sure he gave you an address.”

  “Yeah, I got the address, but you ain’t going with me to make the drop. I’ve got it covered, bruh. Spud, Rob, and Tee are on their way here to scoop me up.”

  “You called them? Are you crazy, J? You know they don’t have lids or filters.”

  “Nah, I ain’t crazy, but you are if you think we can handle street business like gentlemen instead of real niggas from Bankhead. I have to come out of city hall and return to the hood on this one. I ain’t about to even show that dude no money without making sure he keeps his mouth shut. Otherwise, he’ll keep coming back for more. I can’t let that happen, JoJo. Let our homeboys put the clamps on his ass.”

  “What’s the plan?”

  Jeremiah shook his head. “You don’t need to know that, bruh. Just trust me.”

  “Okay. I’ll stay out of it. But I have one request.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Get Mink out of there safely and bring her home.”

  “What the fuck, JoJo? Why?”

  “Don’t ask me any questions. Just make sure my wife comes home unharmed, no matter what they have to do.”

  * * *

  When the black Lincoln Navigator rolled to a stop in front of an abandoned house, Jeremiah checked the GPS on his cell phone. “Yo, this ain’t the right house, y’all.”

  “We know. It’s around the corner, J, but this is as far as you can roll.”

  “What the hell do you mean? I’ve got to make the drop because I’m the one with the money.”

  Rob and Tee started laughing and shaking their heads.

  “Yeah, and you got JoJo’s face too. So we can’t let you get down with us, partna. You ain’t ’bout this life. Me, Rob, and Tee gonna have to do this as a trio. We street niggas. What the hell do we have to lose?”

  “Not a damn thang,” Rob answered, laughing with his full gold grill shining under the sunlight.

  Tee placed his hand on Jeremiah’s shoulder. “Let us make it shake for y’all. You and JoJo are our heroes, J. We don’t need your hands or his on this shit.”

  “That’s right. ’Cause if you and JoJo go down for some bullshit, what’s gonna happen to niggas like us?” Spud asked. “Black folks need y’all in the mayor’s office, the state capitol, and the governor’s mansion. So give me that damn money, hop in the driver’s seat, and take my whip to my mama’s house. My girl, Shequan, is there waiting for you. She’ll take you anywhere you need to be.”

  “I don’t know about this, y’all. JoJo thinks I’m going to make the drop and lay down the law on this punk while y’all kick his ass. Then we’re supposed to get Mink out of there and deliver her trifling ass home.”

  Spud looked at Jeremiah sideways. “Yo, J, you don’t trust us, man? We go all the way back to third grade when we were in the Sunshine Choir at your pop’s church.... All five of us niggas. Remember when we thought we were the shit when we graduated to the youth choir, and all the girls wanted to get with us? Miss Allison was one mean bitch, but her fat ass sho’ could direct the hell outta a choir. We used to be jammin’ for Jesus. JoJo thought he was John P. Kee.”

  “I remember, man.” Jeremiah laughed at the memories.

  “I do too,” Tee chimed in.

  Rob nodded his head with a grin on his face.

  “We were brothas way back then, and we still are today. We always had each other’s backs. Me, Rob, and Tee got you and JoJo this time, just like y’all always had us.”

  Reluctantly, Jeremiah handed over the envelope filled with cash. His boys were right on all points, so there was no need to argue with their crazy asses. “Okay, man, y’all got it. But how’re y’all going to roll out after it goes down?”

  As if on cue, a navy Cadillac Escalade pulled up behind them.

  Spud grinned and threw his head backward. “Deacon Hawkins’s boys are still on the scene. They loyal as fuck too.”

  Spud, Rob, and Tee got out of the truck and looked back at their longtime friend.

  Jeremiah slid over to the driver’s seat and started the engine. He rolled down the window. “Keep it as clean as possible, y’all. I ain’t playing. And don’t forget to drag that piece of trash my brother married out of there.”

  “We gotcha, Chief.” Spud saluted Jeremiah. “My baby is thicker than a Snicker, but you betta keep your hands to yourself. She’s my ride or die for life.”

  “We’re brothas, remember?”

  “Damn right.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Mink shuddered when she heard the first knock at the door. Her eyes skidded over to the man she only knew as Lester. After a whole weekend of drugging and drinking on his tab, she still didn’t know much of anything about him except he had a teeny-tiny Vienna sausage dick.

  Lester grinned at Mink on his way to the door, and the sight of his platinum, diamond-encrusted grill caused her stomach to churn. She felt nauseated mainly from withdrawals, but the thought of their weekend fuck fest sickened her more. Mink changed positions on the lopsided sofa so she could be closer to the front door. She wanted to hear the conversation between Josiah and the low-life hustler.

  “You Lester?” an unfamiliar raspy voice asked.

  “Who wants to know?”

  “Look, nigga, the only thing you need to know about me is I got what you want from a brotha you had no damn business fuckin’ with.”

  “Bitch, this is my—”

  The butt of a sawed-off shotgun came from over Spud’s shoulder and crashed down on the left side of Lester’s head. He dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes. Mink screamed and jumped up from the sofa when she saw blood oozing from his ear. She took off running toward the back of the house, but she was too slow. Tee caught her easily and wrapped her up and covered her mouth to keep her from screaming again. Mink bit his palm as hard as she could, but he held on to her and pinched her lips together.

  “Aye! She bit me, man!”

  Rob
cracked the hell up with the shotgun under his arm. He kicked Lester hard in his side to wake him up.

  Spud kneeled down next to Lester and yanked him up in the sitting position by his collar. “From this day forward, you don’t know her, her old man, or anybody else you see in this raggedy-ass shack. If you take your pussy ass to the badges, you’s a dead motherfucka. The Atlanta Police Department has a boss, and you know who the fuck he is.” Spud looked at Rob, and then Tee. “Should I pay this fake blackmailing son of a bitch this money?”

  “Hell nah! His greedy ass is foul as shit. He’ll try to come up on some more money later on. I don’t trust him.”

  Rob shook his head, grinning. “Don’t give his ass shit.”

  “Keep the money!” Lester told Spud with fear in his voice. “I don’t want it. I won’t bother her or her husband ever again. I swear, man!”

  “Are we supposed to believe you? You callin’ up big-time folks, threatenin’ them, and makin’ demands and shit. Who the fuck do you think you are?”

  “I-I . . . I’m sorry, man. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that shit.”

  “You damn right.” Spud punched him hard in the face twice, and blood trickled from his nose and mouth. “Where’s your cell phone, nigga?”

  “What do you need with my phone?”

  “You don’t get to ask questions. Where is it, damn it?”

  “It’s in the kitchen.”

  Rob went to get Lester’s phone, still holding on to the shotgun.

  “Scroll through his contact list and find his mama’s number or his baby mama’s number. Hell, find both if you can.”

  “Why you gotta do that?”

  “Didn’t I tell your punk ass not to ask any damn questions?” Spud slammed the back of Lester’s head against the floor and yanked him back up.

  “I found his mama’s number,” Rob announced, grinning.

  “What’s your mama’s name? And you betta not lie.”

  “Daisy Watson.”