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The officers had a lot on their plate tonight, and dealing with a cripple and his cousin wasn’t their top priority. They backed off and apologized for troubling them and told them to drive safe.
Devon steered the van back toward the tunnel, and he and Kid sighed with relief. They couldn’t believe the cops had let them go. Still, Jessica’s escape and her arrest were a major problem. The Kid couldn’t do anything about it now. She was in the hands of the NYPD, and he didn’t know for how long. He had no idea what she was going to be charged with, if there was a charge. And would she talk? One thing was for sure; he needed to eradicate the problem before it got out of hand. Jessica was a liability, and the fact that her man tried to blow them up tonight pissed The Kid the fuck off!
***
It was 5 a.m. when Devon and The Kid arrived at the DoubleTree in Jersey City. From the parking lot, through the lobby, and the elevator up to the sixth floor, things were tense. The hotel staff and a few guests were discussing the recent bombing. The news was calling the event a suspected terrorist attack although no group had come forth to take credit for it. Everyone seemed a mixture of shocked, confused, and utterly scared.
Devon pushed Kid toward the room. Both men were quiet. The plan tonight had gone somewhat well. They would be presumed dead. However, with Jessica still alive their plan blew up in smoke just like the building they were supposed to be in. All that planning and all those innocent lives lost were in vain all because The Kid was sweet on Jessica.
They entered the room to find everyone asleep. Eshon and Brandy were sharing a bed, and Papa John was stretched out across the other. Kid was annoyed. How the fuck could they sleep at a time like this? It was fucking Baghdad outside.
Devon was upset too. He looked at Kid and knew what to do. “Wake up!” he shouted. “Wake the fuck up!”
Everyone was startled. Papa John even pulled out his gun and was ready to react. Seeing The Kid and Devon alive was a relief. Devon picked up the remote control to the flatscreen and clicked on the news. The city and the world were devastated—on pause with shock and concern. As the sun was rising, more news rose about the club explosion. It was a fact that it was a bombing—a suicide bombing. A man walked into the Manhattan club last night and detonated himself, killing over two hundred people inside. It was an extreme act of violence that they weren’t ready for.
The Kid sat silently. His eyes were fixed on the TV. The destruction and violence were palpable. Was this the world they lived in now? What troubled The Kid was that they were playing on a whole new level—a deadlier one. It was no longer the Wild, Wild West. It felt like the apocalypse. Maserati Meek chillingly blew up an entire nightclub to kill five people.
“Jessica got away,” Devon told the group.
“What? How?” Eshon asked.
Devon frowned. “She got arrested.”
Eshon’s mouth dropped open, and Papa John said, “What the fuck you mean arrested?”
“Arrested?” Brandy blurted out.
“We fucked up!” Devon told them. “It was doomed from the start.”
“Doomed?” Eshon asked. “How you figure that?”
Devon was tight. He could have been blown to bits or arrested for kidnapping all because The Kid had some kiddie crush on a whore who didn’t give two fucks about any of them. “Jessica should have never had a chance to get away cuz that bitch shouldn’t have been kidnapped in the first place. We didn’t need her. She should have either thought we were dead like Meek or we should have
killed her a long time ago. All these fuckin’ mind games got a nigga’s head about to pop.”
Kid sat quietly for a moment and drank in Devon’s frustration. Calmly, he readjusted his wire-rimmed nerd glasses and said, “You’re right, Devon. So why did you let her live? I thought your plan was good, but now that you’ve broken it down, it seems you didn’t really think it through.”
Devon was incredulous. “My plan? My fuckin’ plan?!”
Papa John intervened. “I think it was more me wanting to use Jessica and Devon was against it, Kid. Dee, next time I will listen when you say we need to dead someone. My bad.”
Papa John had to jump in to keep the ruse. The girls had no idea what was going on. All they knew was that bitch Jessica would live another day.
It all felt like it was falling apart. With Jessica alive and now in custody, their chances of staying dead to Maserati Meek were looking slim. It seemed the hard work was for nothing.
They didn’t get much sleep that night. The drama was still on full throttle, and the explosion was plastered across the television. The hotel room became a hub for The Kid and his crew. With Jessica alive and locked up, Kid had to come up with a game plan to get to Jessica before she was able to reach Maserati Meek. She would get one phone call, and he had no doubt who she would call.
As The Kid listened to everyone complain about almost being blown up and Jessica’s betrayal and escape, he sat in silent contemplation. He said, “We need to call the precinct,” in a meek and humble tone, one different from what Papa John and Devon were used to hearing.
“Call the precinct?” Eshon asked.
“Yes, to see if she was arrested, and if so, when her arraignment is,” The Kid said.
He was right. It was a good idea. The more information they had about Jessica’s arrest, the better. The clock was ticking. The Kid figured Jessica was detained at a precinct near the tunnel. He got online and searched, but there wasn’t much information for them to go on. Things were hectic when Eshon called the precinct. For hours no one picked up. She figured things were crazy in the city.
“We won’t get anywhere just sitting in this hotel; we need to be out there. You should take a cab to the precinct and see what you can find out,” The Kid said to Eshon.
Eshon looked skeptical. “Honest, I don’t wanna fuck wit’ the city.”
