Street Dreams

by K'wan

  “I feel you, pa,” Trinity said, staring out the window. “Whatever roads you take in life, I wanna take them with you.”

  “That's why you’ll always be my down-ass bitch,” Rio hugged her to his chest. “We in it together, ma.” The two lovers interlocked fingers and prepared to exit the cab as it pulled up on 102nd street.

  Rio escorted Trinity to her building and kissed her good night. He stood in the doorway of 845 and watched her until the elevator came. He really didn’t need to watch her. Trinity kept a blade of some kind on her person at all times. It was unnecessary, but he was protective of her. The vultures of the jungle they lived in were always searching for new prey.

  Rio took a stroll to his building, puffing a cigarette and feeling pretty good about himself. He had a decent hustle and a pretty bitch. Compared to a lot of niggaz, he was doing okay. Let Trinity have her dreams ofa palace in the sky. He would give her a house in the suburbs. He intended to get right off hard work, not drug money. It served its purpose for the moment, but it was all for the greater good in his mind.

  Rio gave dap to some of the local hardheads and kept it moving. He dug his hand inside his jacket pocket in search of his keys. He felt a paper towel mixed in and took it out to wipe his nose. As he brought the tissue to his nose, he saw something scribbled on it. It was a 718 number with the name “Precious” written in purple ink. Rio smiled and tucked the number back in his pocket. He figured, A man gonna be a man.

  Shamel staggered into his building on 107th and Manhattan feeling like the luckiest dude in the hood. He had a liver full of liquor and a bad broad on his arm. Monique was a twenty-something-year-old paralegal from West End Avenue. The youngest child of a Trinidadian father and a Korean mother, she had the appearance of a five-foot-nine China doll. She had the body of a sista with bronze Asian features. Shamel kept his face buried in her silky black hair most of the night.

  After a brief altercation with his keys, he managed to get his door open. He had a modest apartment decorated in black and white. He eased her down onto the checkerboard love seat and began unbuttoning her top. His tongue explored her dark nipples like a hungry child. Monique moaned softly as he did his thing. Shamel might not have been the prettiest dude, but he was an expert at the forbidden arts.

  Shamel snaked his tongue from her throat to her vagina. He sucked greedily at her clit, while she squirmed in ecstasy. She turned Shamel over and began to undo his pants. When she popped his dick out, she got even more excited. She slid her mouth over his ten-inch log and stepped to her business. To his surprise she was able to fit most of his shaft into her throat. Monique was maintaining eye contact the whole time she was “topping” Shamel. She was definitely a bitch who got down for her crown.

  Monique slipped the prophylactic on his wood and took her position. She bounced on his dick like it was a twenty-five-cent pony ride. Shamel held fast to her waist, trying to match her fury. She cocked her ass up a little higher and grabbed his neck. Once they established a rhythm Monique did her. She bucked at one hundred miles a minute, causing him to bust a little sooner than he expected.

  Monique climbed off Shamel and pulled her skirt back into place. She didn’t have to worry about finding her panties cause she didn’t bother with them. Monique fixed her hair and blew Shamel a kiss. She pealed off three hundred from the wad of bills on the coffee table and bounced. Shamel didn’t really mind the exchange though. For a few dollars a nigga could take a trip to paradise.

  4

  Rio found himself up with the chickens. He had a full day ahead of him and he needed it to go right. Instead of his usual street gear, he was sporting a cream turtleneck sweater and black slacks. Before he was to see his P.O., he had a job interview downtown. This was his second interview with them, so things were looking good.

  He came out of his building and got on the good foot to the train station. He said what's up to a few of the heads on the block, but didn’t stop to chat. After waiting on an elderly lady to figure out that her metro was supposed to be swiped along the strip, Rio went through the turnstile. He missed the first C train, but another one came right behind it. Another good sign.

  After riding on the musty-ass train for what seemed like forever, Rio found himself on Fifty-ninth Street. The fight against the flow of the crowd was a brutal one, but Rio managed to get to the exit without killing anyone. The walk along Seventh Avenue was a short one. The building he was seeking was only a block or so from the station. Rio glanced up at the office building and took a deep breath.

  Burns & Taylor was a small marketing firm that was slowly on the rise. A friend who worked there had submitted Rio's resume for him. A week later Rio got called in for an interview. After impressing the Human Resources director he was called back for a second interview with the vice president. Rio really needed the job to come through in the worst kind of way. It only paid twenty thousand dollars a year to start, but it was better than flipping a burger or scrubbing a toilet. Besides that, this job would allow him to get out of the streets and go back to school for his bachelor's.

  Rio squeezed into the little chrome elevator just as the doors were closing. He hit the floor he was going to and took up a spot in the corner. Rio could feel his palms sweating as the elevator approached his floor. The disapproving looks he got when he stepped into the small waiting area didn’t help his nerves any. There were five or six other people sitting around with resumes or other such documents in their hands. Rio assumed that they were also seeking employment. The difference was that he was the only black face in the room. He tried to nod at a Spanish-looking cat sitting by the door, but the cat just rolled his eyes.

  Rio brushed off the insult and walked to the small window on the other side of the room. Behind the glass sat a thin white girl. Her blue eyes didn’t hold a drop of intelligence as she twirled a golden lock of hair around one finger. Rio walked up to the window and flashed his whites. “Darius Santana to see Ron Silver,” he said pleasantly.

  The white girl stopped clicking her gum long enough to size Rio up. The way she looked at him you’d have thought that he had just climbed out of someone's gutter. Rio ignored her stare and kept his composure. “And may I ask what this is in reference to?” She asked a little too stink for him.

  “I’m here to interview for the marketing position,” he said, still trying to be pleasant.

  “Oh,” she said as if she didn’t believe him. “Were you aware that the position requires a degree?”

  “I sure am. As a matter of fact I showed mine to Miss Chelsea when I came down for the first interview. Now, if you’re done interrogating me, could you tell Ron that I’m here?” Rio walked away leaving the receptionist looking stupid. He could’ve said a few more slick words that she probably would’ve had to look up later on, but for now the look on her face was reward enough.

  Rio sat in the waiting area thumbing through a book he’d just bought. When he first bought the book he had been skeptical about reading it. Rio mostly read self-improvement books, but Road Dawgz turned out to be a good read. After a few moments, the white girl came for Rio. She led him down a hallway to a door marked R. SILVER VICE PRESIDENT. Rio knocked on the door and a deep voice bade him enter. What happened behind that door would be a defining moment in his young life.

  Rio stuck his chest out and went through the door. The office was a little more modest than Rio would’ve expected. The walls were painted an eggshell white with wall-to-wall gray carpet. Posters and other promotional material hung on the walls and were stacked in corners. A simple wooden desk cluttered with papers sat in the middle of the office. Behind the desk sat Ron Silver.

  Ron wasn’t quite what Rio expected. Over the phone, he sounded like your typical stuck-up white dude, but in person he seemed the opposite. Ron was wearing a blazer over a pair of blue jeans. When he came around to greet Rio, the laces of his white tennis shoes flopped around his feet. Ron brushed his red hair from his high forehead and extended a hand to Rio.

 
; “Darius,” he said, smiling. “Good to meet you.”

  “Thanks,” Rio said, taking his hand. “Same here.”

  “Come on and have a seat,” Ron said, leading Rio around the desk. Ron waited until they were both seated before he started speaking again. “So, Darius, what brings you to B and T?”

  “Employment, Ron.”

  “Oh,” Ron said, chuckling. “I know that part. I mean, what made you decide to apply with us?”

  “Oh, okay. Well, I guess because you guys are up and coming, just like me.”

  “Good answer, Rio. I also read on your application that you have a degree?”

  “Yep, I have an associates degree in computer science and I’ve been taking marketing courses off and on for a while now.”

  “Quite the full plate, huh?”

  “I try, sir. When you keep yourself busy it allows you less time to get into trouble.”

  “Words to live by, Rio. Now, B and T is still a relatively small company, but we’re on the rise. A lot of people are trying to get with us.”

  “I know. I saw quite a few people in the reception area.”

  “Yeah, mostly college kids. They’re trying to get their feet wet then move on to a bigger company.”

  “I hear that, but my plans are a little different, sir. I’m looking for a company that I can not only grow with, but will also provide some sort of stability.”

  “That's why we’re having this conversation, Rio. Personally, I like you. I like how you present yourself and you’re smart. I wanna hire you.” “That's what's up.” Rio said, enthusiastically.

  “Hold on, Rio. I said I wanna hire you, but my boss gets the final say. Everything looks good. All we’re waiting for now is your background check to clear.”

  At the mention of a background check, Rio felt a lump build in his throat. He had lied on his application when he first applied to B & T. When he was called down for a second interview, he figured he had beat the background check. Now his little white lie could end up biting him on the ass.

  Rio answered a few more questions for Ron. Nothing really job related, mostly stuff about his personal life. Ron was cool as hell for a white dude. He even listened to rap music from time to time. Talking to him was like kicking it with an old friend. Then the phone rang.

  Rio tensed up as Ron reached for the receiver. When he first put the phone to his ear, a smile spread across his face, but as the speaker continued, Ron's face became more grim. “But,” he protested, “let's just think about this…but…okay. No, I’m in with him now. Yes, very pleasant young man… I understand.” Ron hung up the phone and slouched in his chair. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know that the phone call was about Rio's background.

  “Everything okay?” Rio asked casually, praying for good news.

  “Afraid not,” Ron said, his expression grim. “It's about your background.”

  “Damn,” Rio said, lowering his head.

  “Jesus, Rio, you should’ve told me that you had a record.”

  “I know, but I didn’t wanna risk not getting the job.”

  “I understand why you did it, Rio, but you probably jammed yourself more by lying.”

  “What was I supposed to do?” Rio asked, watching his chances at getting the job become slimmer and slimmer.

  “You could’ve told me. At least I might’ve been able to try and sell my boss on you.”

  “Mr. Silver,” Rio said formally, “we both know that the working world got no place in it for a felon.”

  “Rio, that's true in some cases, but not all. We stand by the phrase equal opportunity. Believe it or not, I have a record, too. I did a little time as a juvenile, but nothing major.”

  “So how did you land this job?”

  “Because I learned to put the bullshit behind me. I learned to stop using my criminal record as an excuse and let it motivate me.”

  “Okay, I know I was wrong for lying, but I’m qualified to do this. I need this job, sir.” Rio pleaded.

  “I know Rio and I’d like to give it to you, but… “

  “You ain’t even gotta tell me,” Rio said, standing. “I can’t get the job because I got a record.” He frowned, already knowing how it would play out.

  “No, Rio. You can’t get the job because you lied about having a record. Makes it look like you’ve got something to hide. I’m sorry.”

  “Not as fucking sorry as I am,” Rio said, storming out the door. He pushed the office door with so much force that one of the letters cracked. As he passed the reception area, he noticed the blonde trying to cover up her grin with her hand. At first he was going to let it go, but the devil in him wouldn’t allow it. As Rio passed the booth, he leaned in and hog-spit in the girl's face.

  “Laugh about that shit, cracker-bitch!” Rio said. The white girl sat in the booth with spit running down the side of her face, as he stormed out of the office. This was the third job Rio couldn’t get because of his record. Truthfully, the shit was downright depressing. In today's world a blemish on your record could follow you for the rest of your life. With a need for income and lack of opportunity, some youths turn to the streets to get on. At that moment, the streets didn’t seem like a bad idea to Rio.

  The day seemed to drag by at a snail's pace for Trinity. She worked the register at the discount store where she made her so-called living, but her mind was hardly on the ninety-nine-cent items they peddled. All she could think of was the baller affair she was to attend with her boo. The manager's menacing glare brought her back to the here and now. It was business as usual at Happy Jack's.

  Trinity hated working at the discount store. Sure, it was a paycheck, but $6.75 an hour wasn’t worth the bullshit she had to put up with. Happy Jack's was hood in every sense of the word. It was a hood store that sold goods to hood people. All kinds of people came into the store to get what they needed. From TVs to Du-rags, they had it.

  The girls that worked at the store were cool for the most part, but between the manager and the customers, Happy Jack's left a lot to be desired. Loupe Garcia had been managing the store since his father, Juan, had purchased the spot two years prior. Loupe's people were from San Juan. Real old school. They were among the upper crust in Latino society, but Loupe was a different story. He was just one of those people that couldn’t figure out where he belonged in the social spectrum. One day they might see him in a pair of baggy jeans. Then others, they’d see him in suits.

  Loupe had an attitude like he was king shit cause his people were holding. He would always crack on the girls about how gangsta his cock game was, or what he could do for them. The girls that had been there for a while knew what was up with Loupe, but some of the newer ones got caught up in the hype. They learned sooner or later that all that glitters ain’t gold.

  Loupe came strolling into the store like he was little Napoleon. His mop of oily hair glistened in the flickering sunlight, looking like an extra in Goodfellas. The legs of his tan polyester suit whistled as he made his way past the disposable cameras. With 10k gold shining in the store lights, you couldn’t tell Loupe he wasn’t the shit.

  “Whaz up, baby?” Loupe asked, adjusting his crotch. “Ain’t nothing,” Trinity said, clicking her gum and glancing at his crotch. “I see you still trying to make small talk.”

  “Ha, ha. Youz a funny bitch, Trinity.”

  “Listen,” Trinity said, stepping from behind the register. “I could’ve sworn I told you bout calling me out my name. Keep playing wit me, Loupe, and you gonna catch a bad decision.”

  “Come on, Trinity. It's okay for y’all to call each other bitches, but I can’t?”

  “Hell no! I don’t fuck wit you like that Loupe. Ma fucka do you call ya momma a bitch?”

  “Watch ya mouth!” Loupe said angrily.

  “Fuck outta here, Loupe! You always coming out ya face.”

  “Cause I’m the boss. You keep running your mouth and you won’t have a job, bitch.”

  Trinity had heard him use that word one
time too many. Without chipping a nail, she slapped the cold shit outta Loupe. He staggered from the slap in shock, but recovered quickly and lunged at her. With speed almost faster than the eye could follow, she removed a switchblade from her pocket and drew steel to Loupe's neck. All of Loupe's courage drained out of him and into the blade.

  “Go ahead, nigga,” Trinity hissed. “I’ll dice yo chilly bean-eating ass six ways to Saturday.”

  “T,” Rashawn pleaded. She worked the register next to Trinity's. “Be easy. You know Loupe don’t mean nothing by it.”

  “Fuck that, Ra,” Trinity barked, still clutching the blade. “I’m tired of this nigga's mouth.”

  “T-Trinity, baby,” Loupe stuttered. “You know I was just playing, right?”

  “Say sorry.”

  “Huh?”

  “You heard me. I want you to apologize to every female in here that you’ve ever disrespected.”

  “Come on Trinity. I… “

  “Come on, my ass. Yo ass has been in need of checking for some time now. Say it, Loupe.”

  Loupe looked into her eyes and didn’t see any sign of humor. He wanted to spit one of his snappy comebacks, but he didn’t want to trigger the crazy bitch into sticking him. “Okay,” he said humbly. “I’m sorry.”

  “Please, that shit was lame. Say it with some feeling.” she said in a forceful tone.

  “Okay, okay. I apologize to all of you ladies for—”

  “Beautiful black queens.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t play wit me, Loupe,” she said, adding pressure to the blade.

  “A’ight. I apologize to all of you beautiful black queens.”

  “For being an asshole.”

  “Come on, Trinity. Why you gotta OD?”

  “Loupe, you say it or so help me …”

  “Okay, just be cool. I apologize to all of you beautiful black queens for being an asshole.”