The Cost of Vengeance
asked.
    “You grabbed Keisha by the arm and dragged her in the room.”
    “Yeah.” Bobby shook his head. “I had to talk to her for over an hour before she gave up that pussy.”
    “Shit, soon as you closed the door, Connie looked at me and said, ‘wanna go in my room?’ ” I looked at Bobby. “Ain’t Keisha the one that used to go around sayin’ that you were her baby’s daddy?”
    “That’s her.”
    “What made you think about them?”
    “Her daughter is dancin’ at Grant’s,” Bobby said.
    “She call you daddy?”
    “No!”
    “She look like you?”
    “No!”
    “How you know she’s Keisha’s daughter?”
    “She walked up to me and said, ‘You Bobby Ray, right?’ I said: yes. She said, ‘My mama said to tell you hello.’ So I asked: who’s your mama? She put her hand on her hip and said, ‘Keisha Mack.’ ”
    “She got big-ass hips like her mama?”
    “She look just like her mama. Got a body like her too,” Bobby said.
    “Suppose that is your daughter? How would you feel about your daughter dancin’ at Grant’s?”
    “It don’t matter ’cause she ain’t my daughter, Mike,” Bobby said, and I could tell he was gettin’ a little mad. Just like he did back then.
    “Let me put it another way. How would you feel if Barbara, or better yet, if Bonita and Brenda were dancin’ at Grant’s? How would you feel then?”
    “But they’re not.”
    “They dance.”
    “They do ballet!”
    “Mercedes told me she used to do ballet,” I said quickly.
    “Mercedes is dumber than a box of rocks,” Bobby partially shouted.
    “What’s that got to do with it? She said that’s why she can stand in them four-inch stilettos and lift her leg straight up in the air—it’s from the balance she learned from doin’ ballet for years.”
    “Fuck you, Mike.”
    I laughed and so did Bobby. “All I’m sayin’ is that you need to find out if that’s your daughter or not. ’Cause I know I wouldn’t want Michelle shakin’ her ass in none of our spots or anyplace else. And I know you don’t want that for your girls either.”
    “You right, Mike.”
    “What she call herself?”
    “Butta.”
    I laughed again. “She got a big, round ass like her mama and her Aunt Connie?”
    “Why you think they call her Butta?”
    “Talk to Keisha. Find out if that’s your girl or not. If she is, give her a better life,” I said and then I dropped it.
    I remembered that night with Connie; more because of what happened the day after. The next morning we went with André to meet with Greg Lacey. He was the closest thing André had to competition those days. Lace was what they used to call up-and-coming. But to me, he was a loudmouth fool who was always talkin’ when he should be listening. Even though I ended up killing André for betraying me, I listened to what he had to say and learned a lot from him.
    But not Lace, he thought he knew it all, and tried to force his way into a piece of André’s game. It began one day when one of the guys who sold heroin for André started operating on a block that Lace considered his. André’s man killed him and Lace wanted satisfaction; so André agreed to sit down with him. The move surprised me, because André was king those days, and sitting down with Lace would make him appear stronger. But André knew what he was doing.
    What surprised me more was when he told me and Bobby that we were going with him. Usually, his right-hand man, Ricky, would be the one to go to sit down with him. “I’m takin’ you two with me,” André said. “But I can’t take you niggas nowhere dressed like that.” That afternoon, André took me and Bobby down to Delancey Street and bought both of us a suit to wear to the sit down. He even had them tailored to fit us. We went and had dinner while the tailor got them ready. That’s how me and Bobby got with Keisha and Connie that night. Keisha liked the way Bobby looked in that suit. Before that night, Keisha wouldn’t give Bobby the

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