Wifey: Part 2

“That was from the night I got shot. Bebo had kept stressing me to call you, and I kept calling you but you wasn’t picking up. So after the last time I tried to call you, something just clicked in my head and told me to just hit the record button on my phone.”

“Right, right,” Nico said, his mind in deep thought. “That’s good, that’s good. I’m glad you was smart like that. And you said you didn’t tell five-o about this, right?”

“No. I wanted you to hear it. I told them I didn’t know who it was that ran up in the house.”

Nico knew who Narjara was. “That shit is fucked up. What did Bebo mean by what he said at the end of the recording?”

“Bebo put the murder weapon in Narjara’s hand to make it look like she had committed murder-suicide.”

“That’s a grimy muthafucka to do some shit like that to chicks,” Nico said with gritted teeth.

The sun was just about ready to set as Nico reached his hand out for Jasmine’s. And Jasmine took hold of his, and he pulled her close to him again.

“I hate seeing you like this, all bandaged up.”

“I’ll be okay. I’m a trooper.”

“Yeah, you a trooper, but I should’ve been there for you.”

Jasmine kept quiet.

“Look at me,” Nico commanded, and Jasmine looked up at him.

“You trust me, right?”

Jasmine nodded, and then Nico kissed her.

“You not scared anymore, right?”

Jasmine only slightly shook her head, even though she was still scared and knew she would have yet another nightmare later that night.

“I promise you on everything, I’m gonna handle this shit.”

Jasmine looked into Nico’s eyes and softly said, “Okay.”

Thirteen

Bebo was a creature of habit. He hung out pretty much every night of the week and usually didn’t start his day until one in the afternoon. Unless he had a chick spend the night, by two in the afternoon, after he had showered and gotten dressed, he could always be found at USA Diner in Rosedale, Queens, where he’d order his favorite—fish and grits with a large orange juice.

Bebo owned a barbershop on Merrick Boulevard in the Springfield Gardens section of Queens, not too far from USA Diner. He would leave the diner and head straight to his barbershop and get his head shaved, watch music videos, and just hang out and bullshit with all of the barbers and everybody who came through. Bebo would get his head shaved every day, old-school style, with shaving cream and a straight razor and made sure that his goatee was always trimmed, and he always dressed in brand-new high-end clothes so that his cleanness would match his fly appearance.

“How you doing, baby?” the attractive Jamaican waitress asked him. “I’m surprised you in here alone. Where’s your entourage?”

Bebo looked up and smiled and then reached his hand out and grabbed hold of the waitress. Pauline was a bisexual with a short man-style haircut dyed blonde.

He pulled her close to him. “Pauline, where you been hiding at, sexy?”

Bebo always said as little as he needed to. That’s why he didn’t answer Pauline’s question about the whereabouts of his entourage.

“I been around. I was just working the night shift for a few weeks. You want the usual?”

Bebo nodded. Pauline walked to the kitchen to give the order to the cook. Then she came back to talk to Bebo, since her section of the diner wasn’t very busy.

“Your boy was in here the other day,” Pauline said.

“Who’s that?”

“Nico.”