Prince raised his hand for silence. "All of you are aware of what happened last night to Shortman, so we won't even go into that. It ain't no new thing to us. We been hep to what the white man calls justice." His voice went up on the word. "Justice means just one thing: just us. That's the only way whitey looks at itjust-us, and he wants us to accept justice for just-us. Well, we ain't going for it. We know what he means, so we can get down. Leave the bullshit for the squares who don't know no different."
He waved down their yelling impatiently. "There have been some changes made since quite a few of you came out here, so I've made it a point to send enough girls out to keep you from gettin' bored." He smiled as they grinned. "We may be out here for a while, so I want all of you to understand where we stand."
Prince stepped back to brush some imaginary dust off his silk suit. There were no wrinkles in his clothes to reveal that he had spent the night in jail. "Every one of us out here is going to have to do his share," he said, "if we want to come out of this on top." He stared out over the crowd, waiting for the murmuring to die down. "If we don't stick together now, a week from today every one of us will be in jail."
As a mutter of discontent broke out, Prince raised his hand for silence. "There's not a man out here who's not involved in this trouble up to his goddamn neck, so just shut your mouths and listen. I went to the trouble of having everybody I could reach brought out here, so there ain't no one left to put the finger on anyone."
"What about Larry?" Preacher asked suddenly. "He could put some of us on the spot."
As the sun beat down on them, Prince stared at Preacher's dark face. Preacher's eyes were hard, bleak, unreadable.
"Don't worry about Larry," Prince snapped. His eyes flashed sparks as he stared at the crowd of men around him. He was like a lean and hungry lion, aware of the responsibility of keeping his pride in line. From growing pressure, his reflexes had sharpened. Though he ruled over vicious creatures, he was by far the most vicious. His voice lashed out at the men. "I'll have Larry out of the county jail before next week, if he don't talk. If he starts to run his goddamn mouth, I'll have his mammy and every goddamn baby in her house killed." He hesitated for a moment, then added, "And that goes for any of you that might get diarrhea of the mouth."
His words carried a dangerous meaning that was not lost on anyone. All the men knew it was no idle threat.
"Actually," Prince said into the silence, "we don't really have anything to worry about. Just 'cause the papers have been playing up that second-degree murder charge, that really don't mean shit. I got an iron in the fire, so when I pull it out, Larry will be out on the street on bond, fighting a case of joy-riding."
The crowd broke into loud laughter. Chinaman stepped up and waved for silence. "They goin' have Shortman's funeral sometime this week, but most of you won't be there. Prince done already told me who to take, so if you ain't in the bunch, don't get no attitude. It's just playing safe, that's all. Ain't no reason to let the man pick ya up just 'cause someone got hit. It's sad, but it don't change the game. We're playing for big stuff, so the dues goin' be high at times. There's one thing you ain't got to worry about, though, we goin' send him off in style, so won't nobody be able to say we ain't lookin' out for our people. There will be enough of our people there so that everyone will know Shortman wasn't no loser."
The crowd gave Chinaman a roar as Prince took his arm and led him towards the house. "That's my main man," Prince said softly out of the side of his mouth as the men went up the winding path to the rear of the house. Prince waved at some girls lying in sunchairs on the recreation porch. As they passed the kitchen, he waved at another bunch. They walked into the study where four more young, beautiful girls were hanging around listening to records.
"Beat it!" Chinaman ordered sharply. "What the hell do you think this is, a ballroom?"
"What the hell goes on around here?" a young girl with a short natural asked. "First you run us from the pool, now from the house. What is this-some form of new concentration camp?"
"I don't care if you go play with yourselves, just get the fuck out of here," Chinaman replied.
Two of the girls yelled something smart over their shoulders as they went out the door. "Wait a minute," Prince called.
They stopped and waited in the doorway. "One of you find Ruby for me and send her in here," Prince ordered, then closed the door on them. He sprawled out on the couch and stretched. "Goddamn, I'm tired. I think I'll take a quick nap, Chinaman. I didn't get no sleep in that funky hole last night. Man, that's a funky place if I've ever smelled one. Ain't nothing like that in the penitentiary."
There was a sudden knock on the door and Ruby walked in. "What's up, baby?" she asked slowly as she crossed the room.
"I want you to make a run for me, Ruby." Prince lit a cigarette before continuing. "We goin' need some more weed and coke, so take one of the cars and run across town and pick some up from Billy. Get enough to hold us out here for a while, too."
She started to get up from the couch, then stopped. "Baby, I been thinkin'. Since we started this new organization, we ought to make somebody else the minister of finance instead of Roman."
Prince waited so long before replying that she began to think that he hadn't heard her. "Why?" The question caught her by surprise. "You don't think he's been stealing anything, do you?"
"It's not that, Prince," she replied. "I don't know if he's rippin' us off or not. The thing is, he has too much say-so about the money. The way everything is set up, he's just about the only one next to his woman who knows what's happening with our bankroll." Ruby hesitated, then added, "Our income, counting the whiskey and dope money alone, is somewhere around fifty thousand a week. That's a lot of money, Prince, even though I'm counting just the gross. With our overhead, we ain't clearing five thousand dollars a week."
Prince stretched and got up. He walked over to the desk and opened a drawer with a key. His finger ran down a page quickly. "At this moment, we got eight hundred people on our payroll, Ruby. That's a lot of kids." He held his hand up before she could speak. "I know they don't get that much. Some of them, though, make more than you realize. The kids we got cookin' the goddamn whiskey make anywhere from two hundred to four hundred dollars a week. The pushers that work for us even come higher."
Prince examined the small notebook he had taken from the drawer. "I'll go along with your judgment, though, Ruby. If you think we're giving Roman and his woman too much play with our cash, I'll tighten up. But who in the fuck can I put in charge of the new bookwork and money problems? This new organization is going to be one sharp pain in the ass for me. I just don't have the time to spend on it."
"Put Blanca in charge of it," Ruby replied quickly. "She's good with figures, plus she done been through high school. I'll put a couple of other girls on the case with her, and they can watch each other." She smiled at Chinaman, taking the sting out of her words, but he wasn't fooled. He knew she meant just what she said.
"What about Dot, Ruby? You think you might be able to put one of those young buildykers you tight with on the case and find out if Roman is playing sticky fingers with our bread?"
Ruby shook her head. "It wouldn't do no good. Dot is colder, than any jasper we could put on the case. No, that ain't the answer. It ain't no weak spot there. In fact," she added, "we'd have a better chance playing on Roman than we would fuckin' with Dot. We ain't goin' take down nothing messin' with her."
Prince put the notebook back in the desk drawer and locked it. "I'm going to take a nap, Ruby, while you're gone. When you get back, wake me up. Oh yeah," he added as though it had slipped his mind, "stop by Shortman's mother's house and let them know we're paying all the expenses. She can keep the insurance money, if there was any."
When Ruby left, Prince made his way upstairs and took a quick bath, washing the jail smell out of his skin. He stretched out on the bed and instantly fell asleep. It was later in the afternoon when Chinaman came up to the luxurious bedroom and knocked sof
tly at the door. At the sound of Prince's voice, he entered.
"Ruby just pulled up," he informed Prince. A young girl came in behind him with a tray. Prince removed a piece of chicken from it, walked over to the window and pulled back the drapes. He glanced out of the window as Chinaman walked out of the door.
Ruby was just stepping out of a snow-white Cadillac. The car gleamed like crystal in the strong rays of the afternoon sun. Ruby was dressed immaculately, wearing a tight white miniskirt with matching blouse and a wide black belt and black heels. Not a speck of dust was visible on her or the car. Both appeared to have been wrapped in cellophane, then released from it and placed down in the driveway. She seemed totally unaware of the impression her figure was making as she leaned into the backseat and removed a suitcase. The young men watched her voluptuous body with male lust. Out of the twenty or more young girls already there, none of them could compare with Ruby. She started to walk up the driveway, her long smooth legs displayed to perfection.
She stopped and slammed the suitcase down. "Damn it!" she swore. "One of you gaping sons of bitches come and carry this goddamn thing."
Hawk, a short, husky, brown-skinned young man in his early twenties, rushed over and picked up the suitcase. He followed her into the house. When she reached the study, Ruby stopped and took the suitcase from him.
"Thank you, darling," she said lightly and waited until he had retraced his steps before opening the door leading into the study.
"Prince will be down shortly," Chinaman stated as he watched her set the suitcase on an end table. Ruby sat down and made herself comfortable. They didn't have long to wait. Prince opened the door and stepped in. His glance went to the suitcase, then back to her face. He noticed her change of clothes and smiled.
"What's the deal, baby, you trying to give the other girls a little competition?"
Ruby smiled back at him. "I was only trying to bring my small existence to your attention, Prince. It seems that you forget what my main function is sometimes." The tone of her voice changed suddenly. "I couldn't get all you wanted, Prince. All I could shake loose from him was ten pounds of reefer and six pieces of cocaine."
"Six pieces of girl!" Prince exclaimed angrily. "Goddamn, Ruby, it should have been more coke than that left. Billy ain't supposed to sell but so much of that shit. The rest, we got special customers to take it off his hands."
"I thought so too, daddy, but this is just one of our problems."
"What else is wrong?" he asked grimly.
"Well, for one thing, we're having trouble with our heroin contacts."
"What's wrong, we been having too many killings?" he asked wearily.
Chinaman got up and walked over to the portable bar, fixed two drinks, and brought them back to the people on the couch.
"No, that's not the trouble, Prince," Ruby said slowly. "Our connect says he doesn't like his drop-off men getting their hands dirty dealing with dopefiends. He said he just ain't going for it, honey. I called him before I came back out here."
Prince frowned angrily. "What dopefiends?" Prince asked harshly. "The only person his drop-off men come in contact with is Billy-boy."
"Don't you remember, daddy, I told you about Billy. That's your dopefiend right enough. Billy-boy, or girl, is a full-fledged addict."
Prince walked back over to the bar and fixed two more drinks. "Are you certain, woman?"
"It ain't no doubt about it, Prince. I also stopped by Tess's pimp's apartment, baby, and got the real deal from her."
"I'm up on Tess being a user," Prince said slowly, "but Billy doesn't deal with any dopefiends, and besides that, Ruby, you know as well as I do he don't mess with no women, period."
She shrugged her shoulders. "Billy-boy likes the meat, daddy. Tess's pimp is a dopefiend from the old school, so he plays up to Billy on occasion so that he can get both of their blows free." Ruby set her glass down and stared at Prince closely. "I know we can't stand too much more bloodshed, daddy, but the fag is shootin' ten to fifteen things every time he goes to the cooker, and that's at least six times a day."
Prince whistled. "He sure ain't chippin' then. That's a goddamn oil-burner. If he's running fifteen caps a shot," Prince said, "that will just about do it. We can't afford to just cut him loose; he knows too much." He hesitated briefly. "He done just about signed his own death warrant."
Prince stood up and began to pace the floor. His mind raced over the new problem quickly, found a solution and settled on it. He stopped behind the bar and pushed some whiskey aside from the wall rack. He pressed a button and a panel in the wall slid back. "Ruby," he said, speaking over his shoulder, "you call the connect back and have him send the next two kilos over to our place, 'cause Billy won't be around. Get some girls lined up who can deliver the drugs for us. Get about four, that should do just fine. Have two of them pick up the money, while the other two drop off the drugs."
Prince paused for a moment, allowing his eyes to run over the assorted group of guns and knives inside the hollow wall panel. It was a small arsenal with enough guns to supply at least twenty men. "I think, baby, if we do it this way, the girls won't have to worry about gettin' busted for sales. Possession maybe, but not sales."
Ruby walked around the bar and kissed him on the neck. "You take care of the inlet and outlet, Ruby, and I'll take care of Billy-boy," he said coldly.
"Uh-mmmm, daddy," she said coyly, pulling a teninch carving knife from its perch. "Let me take care of Billy-boy-please?"
"I don't know, Ruby," he answered softly. "There's no room for mistakes this late in the game."
"Don't worry, daddy," she whispered huskily. "There will be no mistakes."
11
DONNIE EXPLORED the flat with his brownishgreen eyes. He twisted his lips in a sneer of disgust at the sight of the frayed curtains that hung over the living room windows. The wooden floor had grimy linoleum covering it, and there were crushed cigarettes all over it. A black couch occupied one wall, and opposite it was what could have passed for a deepcushioned chair, with spotted and greasy upholstery. He tapped his foot impatiently as he waited for Fran, Shortman's woman. The sight of the littered flat angered him. He wondered how Shortman had put up with living in such filth. With a much larger family to take care of, his mother would never allow her house to become anywhere near this filthy.
"Just a minute," Fran called from the bedroom. "I'm just about ready." Her voice was loud in the small apartment.
"I guess you know they ain't about to hold up the funeral for you, don't you?" he asked sarcastically. If there was anything he disliked, it was a trifling woman. He glanced at his watch again. He had called last night and told her what time he'd pick her up. If it wasn't for Prince, he thought, he'd walk out. Actually, he didn't give a damn if she went to the funeral or not. He hadn't liked the idea when Chinaman called and told him what he had to do.
Finally, Fran came out of the bedroom. He cursed under his breath at the sight of her. She was wearing a tight black minidress. With her large breasts pushing through the top, the dress seemed vulgar. She grinned at him, revealing yellow teeth. He stared at her too-large nose, mannish-looking natural, and wondered again what Shortman had seen in her. Besides her voluptuous body, he couldn't find anything in her favor. She had a body, though, and she was well aware of it.
She made her hips sway as she started towards him. "You ready, honey?" she asked sweetly.
"Am I ready?" he repeated and bit back a sharp retort. "Yeah, baby, I'm ready," he said and took her arm. She swayed towards him, brushing against him provocatively. Just for the hell of it, when they walked out of the door, he let his hand search over her body. She stopped in the doorway, giving him plenty of time to finish his feel.
"Damn," she cursed. "I wish we had a little more time. We might be able to reach some kind of mutual understanding." She laughed loudly. "Maybe after the funeral, huh, Donnie?" She rubbed his hand in such a way that it was impossible to miss her meaning.
Not in your lifetime,
bitch, he thought coldly. The last thing in the world he wanted was a trifling woman. "You done forgot all about Shortman, baby, mighty quick," he said shortly. She missed the sharpness in his voice.
"Me and Shortman was cool, Donnie, when he was living, but ain't nothing a dead man can do for me. Don't forget, man, I got two kids to take care of."
"I thought you was gettin' A.D.C., Fran," he said slowly.
"Shit, man, you know A.D.C. ain't no money. How you expect me to really live off that little shit, huh?"
"I guess you didn't live off your check before you met Shortman?" he asked. This time there was no missing the anger in his voice.
She tossed him a skeptical glance. "You know as well as I do, Donnie, that those babies belonged to Shortman."
He made a gesture of impatience. "Shortman, hell. Fran, I knew you when you was fuckin' before Shortman ever came into your life. You may have told him them kids was his, but baby, you'd have to do a hell of a lot better than that to make me believe it."
Fran stopped and put her hands on her hips. "I don't give a fuck if you believe it or not. I'm gettin' money from A.D.C. in his name, so what you think is your goddamn business." She started towards the car, then stopped. "If you don't want to take me to the funeral, I can get there without your help, you know."
"I'll take you," he said hurriedly. "You ain't got to get your ass up on your shoulders, though."
She turned with the lean motion of a sinewy leopardess and stood before him quivering. "I don't know who or what the fuck you think you are, nigger, but I don't have to take no shit off you, you understand that?"
He stared at her angrily, but there was an indication that her rage was mounting. He cautioned himself to be cool. It wouldn't do at all if he was to knock her on her ass. For a moment he let the picture of her sprawled out on the ground flash through his mind; then just as quickly he put it out of his thoughts. He ignored her and walked over to the black Cadillac he had been loaned for the occasion. He opened the door and held it for her, not really caring if she got in or not.
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