us a chance to sing in his ear on Friday night. Not even the Gabrianos coulda kept me from going. Nicky only had me down for one cash run in the next week, a trip to D.C. on Wednesday morning. I decided it was the last transport they were gonna get out of me.
“Forget that transport. You should go back to New York right now,” Mama encouraged me. “Opportunity is knockin’, doll baby, and ya'll ain't been on a stage together in months. Get your ass back to New York and rehearse with your group, Candy Raye! This could be your big break.”
“I can't, Mama,” I said. “I gotta make that run next week.” I saw where she was trying to lead me, but I wasn't about to follow.
“Gawdammit, Candy Raye! I swear your ass is stupid sometimes. Your mama is right here, girl! Care your ass on back to New York. You got any work that needs to be done here,
I'll do it.
You got some business you need to take care of,
I'll take care of it.
You got a run to make,
I'll make it.
I know it ain't always been that way, but Mama is here for you
right now
, doll baby.”
I didn't even entertain that noise. Mama had a great life now, but who could forget she'd had such a fucked-up past? Plus, the least I owed the Gabrianos was to take the last run that I had promised them, so I'd show up on Wednesday, drop the cash in D.C, and then catch a Metro train up to New York, whereDominica and Vonzelle would be waiting at Penn Station. We'd have a day and a half to knock the dust off our voices, and we'd be sitting pretty in the House of Homicide by Friday night.
Wednesday morning found me heading toward the airport, riding in the backseat of a bootleg taxi and praying like hell I didn't get knocked.
“Ain't you scared of what them greasy-ass gangstas gonna do when they find out you jetted back to Harlem?” my friend Lulu had asked before I left my apartment. Lulu went to computer classes with me and lived up the street from my house. She didn't get along with her moms at all, so when Mama and Caramel moved out I started letting Lulu stay with me, and she slept on my couch almost every night.
“Don't have them fools coming up in here tossing me up,” she warned. “I've seen enough movies to know this ain't the kind of grind you can just walk away from, Candy. You they top carrier, girl. You know too much. Them Gabrianos ain't gonna let a prime mule like you just slip out the noose and escape under the fence.”
“Don't worry about it,” I'd told her. “Me and Nicky are cool like that. He'll cover for me. I'ma make this last drop just like we planned, then I'll call him from the East Coast and let him know I'm out for good. Nicky is down. He'll find somebody else to cover my runs in less than twenty-four hours.”
I walked through the terminal at L.A. International and glanced at my watch. My flight wasn't leaving until eleven, so I had plenty of time. The security screening area was straight ahead, so I detoured right and wheeled my little laptop bag into the nearest restroom and looked in the mirror. The reflection staring back at me was perfect, but I was still nervous asshit, praying I didn't get busted just when I was getting ready to slide outta the game for good.
I'd flown out of L.A. International boo-coo times, but no matter how often I transported funds I always stayed on point and I never got sloppy. You could never tell when a rival was smelling you or when your own people might be hating on you hard enough to rob you or set you up.
Besides, moving drug money around was tricky. It had to be done just right. Crisscrossed and backtracked and flipped up and down and around to keep the feds from getting a good whiff and identifying a trail. You had to be able to dip in and glide out and deliver your package better than the U.S. Postal Service.
I ran my plan down in my mind just like I'd done no less than a hundred times over the past two years. The details were tight. I willed myself to stay calm and act natural as I walked out
“Forget that transport. You should go back to New York right now,” Mama encouraged me. “Opportunity is knockin’, doll baby, and ya'll ain't been on a stage together in months. Get your ass back to New York and rehearse with your group, Candy Raye! This could be your big break.”
“I can't, Mama,” I said. “I gotta make that run next week.” I saw where she was trying to lead me, but I wasn't about to follow.
“Gawdammit, Candy Raye! I swear your ass is stupid sometimes. Your mama is right here, girl! Care your ass on back to New York. You got any work that needs to be done here,
I'll do it.
You got some business you need to take care of,
I'll take care of it.
You got a run to make,
I'll make it.
I know it ain't always been that way, but Mama is here for you
right now
, doll baby.”
I didn't even entertain that noise. Mama had a great life now, but who could forget she'd had such a fucked-up past? Plus, the least I owed the Gabrianos was to take the last run that I had promised them, so I'd show up on Wednesday, drop the cash in D.C, and then catch a Metro train up to New York, whereDominica and Vonzelle would be waiting at Penn Station. We'd have a day and a half to knock the dust off our voices, and we'd be sitting pretty in the House of Homicide by Friday night.
Wednesday morning found me heading toward the airport, riding in the backseat of a bootleg taxi and praying like hell I didn't get knocked.
“Ain't you scared of what them greasy-ass gangstas gonna do when they find out you jetted back to Harlem?” my friend Lulu had asked before I left my apartment. Lulu went to computer classes with me and lived up the street from my house. She didn't get along with her moms at all, so when Mama and Caramel moved out I started letting Lulu stay with me, and she slept on my couch almost every night.
“Don't have them fools coming up in here tossing me up,” she warned. “I've seen enough movies to know this ain't the kind of grind you can just walk away from, Candy. You they top carrier, girl. You know too much. Them Gabrianos ain't gonna let a prime mule like you just slip out the noose and escape under the fence.”
“Don't worry about it,” I'd told her. “Me and Nicky are cool like that. He'll cover for me. I'ma make this last drop just like we planned, then I'll call him from the East Coast and let him know I'm out for good. Nicky is down. He'll find somebody else to cover my runs in less than twenty-four hours.”
I walked through the terminal at L.A. International and glanced at my watch. My flight wasn't leaving until eleven, so I had plenty of time. The security screening area was straight ahead, so I detoured right and wheeled my little laptop bag into the nearest restroom and looked in the mirror. The reflection staring back at me was perfect, but I was still nervous asshit, praying I didn't get busted just when I was getting ready to slide outta the game for good.
I'd flown out of L.A. International boo-coo times, but no matter how often I transported funds I always stayed on point and I never got sloppy. You could never tell when a rival was smelling you or when your own people might be hating on you hard enough to rob you or set you up.
Besides, moving drug money around was tricky. It had to be done just right. Crisscrossed and backtracked and flipped up and down and around to keep the feds from getting a good whiff and identifying a trail. You had to be able to dip in and glide out and deliver your package better than the U.S. Postal Service.
I ran my plan down in my mind just like I'd done no less than a hundred times over the past two years. The details were tight. I willed myself to stay calm and act natural as I walked out
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