Another day on a different street corner had made me impatient. Though John provided me with a reliable intake of cash, I had no reliable intake of information. All the avenues I hoped would arise had seemed to dry up.
Rod's adamant gatekeeping of his fight club continued on for days on end. Nothing I would say or do would make him surrender the location. I considered stalking him to this brawler's club, but if I were found out that could hurt the trust we had. If we had any to begin with, that is.
Q continued guarding the secrets of his concoctions and herbs. Each time I asked was another time he reminded me that my job was strictly to distribute, not create. Another dead end on any sort of growth.
Will remained laid back. He was the leader, that much was true, but I never saw him do anything but sell alongside me. The only one authorized to split the money and send anyone anywhere was him, but why? I deduced that he had inside knowledge of movements of other gangs and organizations, but how?
Maurice refused to help me further. The most interaction I had with him was the rare afternoon playing with or against him in basketball. Ock was still friendly enough. No one else at the park was worthy of note, save for Dayleon, who wanted nothing to do with me despite our shared hatred of The Stans.
My stats had begun to stagnate. The occasional point would come whenever enough deals were closed, but nothing I would consider major to my goal. The only thing that had progressed was the small progress I had in handshakes.
[48/50 PERFECT DAPS]
I had little idea of what I would gain from reaching that milestone. It's not like I could turn foe to friend with a clap of the hand. No such magic existed in this world, at least, none I had seen.
What did I have?
Money.
Supposedly protection.
That was not enough. I felt as if I was going around in circles, chasing breadcrumbs of anything that could leave me to Xay. Who was there left I had not exhausted? I pulled out my phone and scrolled through the contacts.
My cousin, Dayday.
All he did was remind me that Stanlowe was, in his words, "A class act shit hole."
Mother.
Absolutely not. In recent days she had started questioning where the money was coming from. I was running out of lies to feed her.
I could swing by the station for gas where DD worked.
Our last deal, however, had gone sour. I think he still wanted nothing to do with me after waving a gun in his face. Back to the phone.
Keke.
The bartender.
The bartender…
Bartenders talk.
Bartenders talk to everyone. All of the time, in fact. I had not spoken to her since I last paid for her overpriced drinks and punched their door guard in the face. Perhaps I should change that. I pressed her name and waited for a voice.
…
Nothing yet.
…
Maybe it was too late–
"Hello?"
"Erm, greetings, Keke."
"Greetings," she chuckled, "Mister formal. You sure took your time to call. Your other hoes not picking up?"
"Why would I talk to farming equip–oh. Women. No."
"Funny. What's up?"
"When could I see you next?"
"Okay, direct. I like that. I work the weekends but if you wanna come back up to June Park's club you can chill there. Maybe I give you a discount on our overpriced drinks. Just don't punch Hector again."
Just imagining the doorman who tried to test me made me annoyed at the entire encounter.
"No promises. I'll see you when I can."
"Alright–"
I stuffed the phone back in my pocket and continued plotting–
A buzz from my pocket. It was Keke again.
"Keke?"
"Damn you didn't even let me say goodbye?!" she screamed, "Just hanging up on a girl? That's how you get down? Nigga, if you don't–"
"I apologize?"
"Better. Goodbye."
It was only then the call was over. My mind took a second to recoil from her sudden lash out. Getting put in my place like that was a foreign feeling, I admit. Thinking of Keke reminded me of the device she used to communicate with everyone in the club. The press of a button, and everyone knew everything about anything going on.
The walkie-talkie.
What was their range? A mile? Two? Further?
The group of vagabonds in North Forest could not be far with how often John came around. If I managed to arm a small group with devices that relayed information…instantaneously…without risk…
The map on my phone informed me of the distance.
As the crow flies? North Forest was just that. North. Right across the river.
On the road? The only accessible way on and off of North Forest was a bridge that ran parallel with the river. From there, I would have to go through another district, and make another turn to even touch the border of North Forest. That ran around six miles, and I possessed no car of my own to make the trip.
Additionally, no one I knew would set foot there.
"Hey! J-Man! Man with the goods! Man with the supplies! What's popping, brother?"
John stumbled up from behind me, flashing a toothy smile. Rather, what was left of his front teeth.
"Guess who got some information for you. Go on."
I rolled my eyes and played along.
"You?"
"Damn straight, nigga! I know where Xay Thomas is!"
My face flattened. I wonder where the brother of the Stans of West Side could be living.
"Oh, wow," said I, sarcastically, "Is it the West Side–"
"North Forest! Let me finish, damn."
I blinked once.
I blinked twice.
"You said North Forest, John?"
"Yep! Apparently the nigga got it like that! Loaded! Racks on racks on racks type shit. Living that good life–"
"I get it. Why would he be living in North Forest?"
"I dunno. Anyways–"
I shushed John and paced in silence. Has the alliance between the Stans and North Forest taken effect? Had Xay defected?
A political marriage?
Xay was now doubly protected–no–triple.
The Stans backed him.
North Forest backed him.
Separated by a river–even nature backed him!
"John, do you walk the entire six mile stretch whenever you visit your friends in North Forest?"
"What? No. Hell no. I take the river."
My eyes lit up.
"You own a sea vessel?"
John looked around before leaning in. I leaned back to regain distance on the smell leaking from between his teeth.
"I stole a boat. I keep it in the shed on the edge of the river. Straight shot to the forest where my friends are."
I turned away to breathe a breath of uncontaminated air before speaking again.
"...could you take me across? Tonight?"
John backed away and stroked what remained of his hair. I swear I saw an insect flee from the disturbance. Possibly two. When he walked in a circle pondering my answer, I noticed he would lose height every other step. I looked down to see John was missing a shoe.
Has he always been missing a shoe?
I caught a glimpse of his yellow toes and immediately went back to looking at him from an eye level as he responded.
"I…don't…think that would…be a good idea."
"Why not?"
"I don't think Ben wants any outsiders."
"Ben?"
"Yeah. He's kinda their leader or something, I don't know. Big motherfucker. Hairy as a bitch, too. He protects them, I think? Does nothing but stare at me as I come and go. Always whispering to himself."
My face went blank.
"Let me get this straight, John. You're telling me I can't visit the vagabonds because the LEADER of said vagabonds–indicating that they're organized enough to HAVE a leader–would disapprove?"
"Uh…yeah?"
"Phenomenal. That's just phenomenal. The guardian of the street urchins says no."
I threw up my hands in resignation and started to walk away. John caught up to me within a couple of steps.
"But–but! Because me and you have this thing going, I'm sure I can talk to him! I just have to get him to talk, you know, cause–"
"Cause he stares, yeah. You said that."
I stopped to pull my fingers over my eyelids in frustration. John rubbed his hands together nervously as he came around into my line of sight. I could see he wanted to say something but was hesitating.
"What is it?"
"It's just that…"
John looked around and pulled me in. I held my breath on instinct from my preferred proximity being broken.
"Ben uh…he…"
"What?"
"He…"
"...yes?"
"...straight up kills people he don't approve of, son."
John let me go to gauge my reaction. I gave none, as I was still working on processing the information.
"Like…he just kills you. Ben is always talking to himself. Institutionalized. The moment he stops?"
John violently twisted his hands as if snapping a neck. I found myself gulping.
"One of the North Forest people brought an outsider one time that Ben just stared at. She said one wrong thing and–"
Another twist of his hands.
"Then he killed the person that brought her. Same way. Just–"
He repeated the motion with extra emphasis.
"Then he dumped both of them in the water. That was it. Back to back. Double kill on the motherfucker. No one snitched. No one said a thing."
"What did the person say to warrant such an end?"
"No idea. One minute? Alive. The next?"
John kept on repeating the neck snapping gesture. I interrupted him on his second go around.
"Yeah, I got the gist. Then you talk to him, neither of us say the wrong thing, and we do business. Simple as that."
"I hear you, I do. Or we–"
The moment he moved his hands I grabbed them.
"I got it. I really do. Stop."
I wiped my hands on my pants and continued.
"Surely there's some sort of tribute I could give to Ben? Something to show I mean no harm to him or his subjects?"
"He doesn't smoke. Don't drink. No shrooms or crack no nothing."
"There has to be something. What if you were to ask what he wanted?"
"I…don't like Ben. That brother is creepy as a bitch."
I put my tongue to the roof of my mouth and walked around Ben, rubbing my hands. A plan was brewing.
"John. Partner. Ben knows I exist, right?"
John nodded.
"So he knows of our arrangement?"
He nodded again.
"Has John strangled you yet?"
"No. But–"
"Then clearly Ben has some tolerance for me already, right?"
"I…guess?"
"So what is the harm in asking him if I can get anything special for him? A token of goodwill, nothing more."
John twisted his face, attempting to form a thought. He opened his mouth to speak several times but changed his mind just as quickly.
[PERK ACTIVATED: LISTEN UP!]
[PRESENCE CHECK PASSED]
"I guess…nothing…?"
A wide smile appeared along my face.
"Here's what you're going to do in the simplest terms possible: You ask. Tell me. I get Q to make it. You escort me to Ben. I will deliver it myself as a sign of trust. Neither of us get our necks snapped. Neither of us get dumped in the river. Deal?"
"Alright…"
"And here's a little incentive to say the right things."
I took out two bags and handed them to John.
"On me. Enjoy."
"Alright. I got you, Jamal. Only cause you're my guy."
The smile quickly vanished as I turned away.
"Whatever I have to be to get this done," I muttered.
John did not say another word as I walked away. I turned around to see him fumbling with his hands. I'm sure he would not fail me.
And if he never appeared again?
Well, at least I could safely cross off this plan. If all did go according to plan, the next thing I would need to do is acquire enough walkie–talkies.