by K'wan
Rio staggered over and leaned against one of the ventilation shafts.
In the night air, his head didn’t spin as much, but the fire still burned in his chest. He had almost lost control of himself inside the club. Seeing his wifey touching on that nigga put him in a killing mood.
Rio peeled the cap off of his bottle and took a long swig. The cognac burned his insides, but it calmed him a bit. This was just what he needed. Rio looked down at his blank notepad and tried to find that special place he needed to be. As he stared intently at the blank page, words began to form in his mind. He touched his pen to the paper and let his creativity take over. Rio began to write. The story that began to unfold was a sad one. It was a story of a flower. A flower that everyone sought to have for their own. Every time the flower began to blossom and take root, someone always came to try and uproot it. It was as if no one wanted the flower and the earth's nurturing soil to develop the relationship they both needed to truly bloom. Eventually the flower began to wilt and it died. It was a sad, but familiar story. The story of his and Trinity's love.
Trinity and her girls made it back to their hood not long after Rio and his boys had parted company. Alexis had tried to be supportive of Trinity, but there was only so much that she could say. None of them knew what Trinity was going through. Both her friends had been in relationships, but none of them knew what it was to truly be in love.
Trinity cried the more she thought about it. She loved Rio with everything that she was, but dumb shit was always getting in the way. She loved this man hard enough to overlook the fact that he had killed her father, but he couldn’t see past a pat on the cheek. There was only so much worrying that she could do though. She knew that his pride was hurt, and pride was something that Rio was very big on. In time he would come around. Or at least she hoped that he would. Trinity and Alexis walked Joyce to her building then headed back up the block to their little piece of the hood. The girls were both tired and wanted the night to end.
Joyce watched the two girls until they were out of sight. When she thought that the coast was clear, she headed back into the projects. She was a little tipsy and had no intention of letting the night end. To her, Trinity went out like a bird. She let Rio leave and didn’t try and stop him. Then to make it worse, Baron wanted to slide and she wouldn’t go with him either. There was no way a bitch like Joyce would’ve left the club alone. She was content to let Trinity feel sorry for herself, but she had other plans.
Rio came staggering out of his building, holding his half-empty bottle of liquor. He wasn’t as uptight as he had been, but the pain still lingered. That's how it usually goes when you try to escape your troubles through intoxication. You feel good for the moment, but in time it fades and the pain is still there waiting under the surface. And Rio was hurting.
Some of the fellas were in front of the building getting their hustle on, but Rio didn’t feel like being bothered. He nodded and bust a hard left in the direction of Manhattan Avenue. When he got halfway down the block, he spotted Cutty talking to a young lady. Rio scratched Manhattan as an escape route and cut south through the middle of the projects.
As he moved down the narrow path, he could feel the liquor trying to steal his balance. He tried to take a few deep breaths, but it didn’t help much. He was good and drunk. As he continued through the path, he spotted a female coming his way. The young lady sauntered in his direction, swinging her big ass. Rio eyed the short black skirt she wore and found himself getting aroused. But as he got closer, her face became more visible and his arousal began to die down.
“Hey, Rio,” Joyce said seductively.
“Oh, God,” Rio said, slapping himself in the forehead. “As if I didn’t have enough trouble. I hate to burst your bubble, Joyce, but if you came to deliver a message from Trinity, I don’t wanna hear it.”
“Damn, hello to you, too. I didn’t come to deliver no messages for nobody. Fuck I look like, Fed Ex?”
“So what you want, girl?”
“For your information, I came back through here to see if you were okay.”
“Yeah, right. Since when do you show any interestin mywell-being?”
“Look, Rio, we ain’t never been as cool as you and Alex, but you my friend's man and I care about what happens to you.” “Umm hmm.”
“Oh, boy,” Joyce said, sucking her teeth, “that's why a lot of y’all niggaz can’t keep a girl. Acting like you’re too hard to say when you’re hurt.”
“Joyce, you bugging. You don’t know nothing about me or what I’m going through.”
“That may be true, Rio. But what I do know is that shit that went down earlier was wack. Listen, can I say something to you and you’ll keep it between us?”
“It's a free country, Joyce. Spit it out.”
“A’ight. Trinity is my girl and I love her dearly, but that shit she pulled wasn’t cool.”
“Fuck her and that nigga, Baron.”
“I feel you on that, Rio, but it wasn’t entirely Baron's fault. He was just trying to be a gentleman and show us a good time. Me and Alex was checking for his peoples, that's why we went through there. Trinity took it upon herself to come with us for whatever reason. Didn’t nobody twist her arm and force her to be all up on Baron.” Joyce lied.
“Whatever,” Rio said walking off. “I ain’t really trying to hear it.”
“Well, you need to,” Joyce said, walking along the side of him. “Trinity is confused right now. She's going through a lot in her life, but that's no reason why you should have to suffer. I ain’t got no man, but I’m sure if I did he would’ve cracked my head open for being up on some nigga. Especially in his people's spot.”
“What's your point?” Rio said, slurring his words.
“My point,” Joyce said, taking the bottle and drinking from it, “is that some girls ruin it for everyone else. You keep Trinity laced. I ain’t saying she was ever a bum, but you keep her in the finest shit. Do you know how many bitches would love to be in Trinity's position?”
“Including you?”
“Rio, I ain’t hardly no hater. You my girl's man, so I wouldn’t never come at you like that. At least, not while you’re with her.”
“Well,” Rio said, staggering a little, “the way I see it, Trinity's got a new man. I hope her and Baron are happy together.”
“Rio, please. You know just like I do, you’re talking out your ass. You and Trinity had an argument. That's what couples do. In time this shit will blow over and y’all are gonna be back together.”
“I don’t know, Joyce,” Rio said, beginning to loosen up. “I think it's over between us. The stakes are higher now. I need a bitch that I can count on. Someone that's always gonna be in mycorner. You smell me?”
“Yeah, I feel you. Whether you and Trinity fix ya little problems is between y’all. It don’t make me no never mind. All I’m saying is, don’t be no fool. You’re too good for that.”
By now the drunk in Rio had overpowered the logic. This bubble-head bitch that he couldn’t stand half of the time was actually starting to make sense. Why the fuck should he be all down in the dumps when he wasn’t the one in the wrong? If Trinity could do her and not feel bad, he could live it up with a clear head. Fuck it.
Rio walked and listened as Joyce took sips from his bottle and consoled him. Before he had even realized it, they were in front of Joyce's building. Rio hadn’t realized that he had walked all the way to Amsterdam Avenue. As he stood there in front of Joyce's building, the liquor secured a tighter hold over him. His legs wouldn’t allow him to move any farther. Against his will his feet led him inside Joyce's building.
“You okay?” she asked, grabbing him by the arm.
“Yeah,” Rio said, righting himself. “Just a little tipsy.”
“That's what you get for trying to bang yak like it's going out of style,” Joyce said, downing the last of it. “You drunk as hell.”
“Nah, I ain’t drunk, ma.”
“Please,” Joyce said, putting
her arm around his waist. “You can barely stand up on your own. Why don’t you come upstairs with me?”
“Nah,” Rio said, backing away. “I ain’t going up in there. I’m going home.”
“Stop acting crazy, Rio. My mom is in Atlantic City for the weekend. Ain’t nobody here but me.”
“I’m good,” he said, beginning to feel faint. “Joyce, I really need to get back up the block.”
“The block? Who’re you rushing to? Trinity left me and Alex downtown.” The last statement reopened the wound Rio sought so desperately to heal. The first thing that popped into his mind was that Trinity had slid with Baron. Jealousy was getting the best of him, just as Joyce had planned it. “Look,” she said. “All I’m trying to do is help you sober up a little before you go off wandering the streets. Let me make you some coffee to knock that drunk out. You can chase Trinity later.”
“Fuck is you talking about? I ain’t chasing a ma fucka. It ain’t even that serious.”
“That's what ya mouth say,” Joyce said, opening the lobby door. “If it ain’t that serious, then come on up.”
Joyce stepped through the doorway, making sure she shook her ass extra hard. The sober side of Rio screamed for him to turn around and go back up the block. But the sober side wasn’t in control anymore. Hadn’t been for about the last hour or so. The drunk held sway now and it was telling Rio to let the cards fall where they may. Against his better judgment, Rio followed Joyce and her big ass up the stairs.
Cutty sat on the stoop of 868 smoking a blunt and enjoying the night air. Slowly but surely his adrenaline levels were subsiding. That shit that went down at the club had him tight. “Faggot-ass niggaz,” he said to himself. Cutty didn’t like the way Baron was trying to play his man, Rio. The cat was coming all kinda sideways as if the niggaz from 103rd didn’t get down for theirs. To Cutty it didn’t really matter where you were from. Be it 155th or 103rd, niggaz still bled the same.
Rio had surprised him more than what Baron had tried to pull off. Ever since they were in junior high together, Rio had always been the soft-spoken and passive one. Putting in work was left to Cutty. That night at the club was a different story though. Rio was on his flip shit. Wether it was the fact of knowing he had a killer with him or seeing his girl hugged up on some other cat, Cutty couldn’t call it. In all truthfulness, he really didn’t care. This was the side of Rio he had been trying to resurrect for the longest.
When the two of them first started running together in the late ‘80s, Rio hadn’t been nearly as laid-back. Some people would’ve even said he was wild. Cutty didn’t buy that shit though. Rio was always just a kid trying to find himself. He knew he had a place in the world, but just couldn’t figure out where. Rio had street in him by right of birth. Before his father got on that militant shit he was a numbers’ runner on 104th Street. Even his mother was bout her scratch. Sally was one of the first chicks in the hood to go hand to hand, back before the singing calmed her down. She was a wild chick. But somewhere in the equation something went screwy. Rio might’ve had hustler in his blood, but it wasn’t in his heart.
Cutty and Rio had been doing them for quite some time, but where Rio was an on-again, off-again hustler, Cutty jumped into it headfirst. He was always down to do dirt, be it robbing a ma fucka or slinging. He was always gonna make sure he ate. That's just how he was brought up. With no family to speak of, at least nobody who gave a shit, Cutty was forced to take it to the streets to live. He had been putting in work for so long that he didn’t see the evil in what he was doing. To him it was just the way things were. He didn’t really give a fuck where he ended up down the line, as long as he got to live good when it counted.
For a while, things had been on the downside for Cutty. The number of official niggaz in the streets were dwindling as time progressed. This new breed of hustler had the game all twisted. Everybody was more concerned about getting fresh than longevity. If you had on a platinum chain, but didn’t have an emergency stash for lawyers or bail, then you were stupid and had no business in the streets. Cutty was one of the last real niggaz in the hood. The new punks that were running things made him sick.
Just when Cutty was about down and out, Rio came through as usual. He put Cutty in a position to make some real paper on the consistent basis. He never really figured himself as somebody's bodyguard, but whatever put food on the table. At first he was suspect of his old friend. Ever since Rio had come home from his bid, people had been whispering about him. People had been saying that he didn’t have it in him to be a Capo in an organization like Prince's. But after seeing the devil peek out of Rio in the club, Cutty's suspicions were laid to rest.
There was a gangsta hiding somewhere in Rio. He just needed a little coaxing to bring him out.
Cutty's thoughts were interrupted when a white Benz wagon pulled up on 103rd and Manhattan. He didn’t recognize the car, so he slid his hammer from his jacket. If it was Baron or anybody else trying to come through the hood and violate, they would pay in blood. When Truck hopped from the ride, Cutty allowed himself to relax a bit, but he still kept his gun cocked.
“What up?” Truck asked, showing his teeth. “Fuck is you still doing out here?”
“Chilling,” Cutty said, taking a toke on his blunt. “Just chilling.”
“Chilling, huh? I hear that. How's our boy doing?”
“Rio? Oh, he's good. Left him about an hour ago.”
“Say, what was all that shit about earlier?”
“Man, that wasn’t about nothing. Niggaz from Fifty-fifth acting like they can’t get it.”
“Yeah, Baron and them. I know the kid.”
“Well, you better holla at ya man. They come at my fam breezy again and it's on.”
“Nah,” Truck said, sitting on the steps next to Cutty. “It's like you said, ‘ain’t about nothing.’ Some niggaz let pussy cloud their better judgment.”
“Pussy?” Cutty asked. “You mean to tell me that all that shit was over a broad?”
“Yep. At least that's the way I heard it. That girl Rio mess with was up in there with Baron and his crew. Ya man Rio caught feelings and wigged out.”
“Well, I’ll be damned. I almost caught a body in a public place cause of some shit Trinity started?”
“Hey, it's like I said. That's what I was told. Homegirl got our boy's nose wide open.”
“That shit is wack, Truck.”
“Tell me about it. How does that make our crew look when one of our Capos is letting some chickenhead cause him to forget himself? We supposed to be top of the food chain out this ma fucka. All of us caked up. It ain’t nothing wrong with having a little sweetheart, but the number one priority should be your pocket and your credibility. If you running around acting like a bird, ain’t nobody gonna truly respect you.”
“You got a point, Truck. I be trying to put my nigga up on game, but I don’t want him to feel like I’m playing him. I just wanna make sure my fam is good.”
“That's what I’m trying to say,” Truck said, taking the blunt. “Cutty, niggaz like you is what we need in our organization. You keep it funky and you look out for yo people. That's a true gangsta.”
“I am what I am, dawg.”
“Fo sho. Man, I just don’t wanna see ya boy make no mistakes. You know that any mistakes at this level of the game could prove to be fatal. It's a lot at stake here, Cutty.”
“You ain’t gotta tell me, Truck. I know what's going on and I’m gonna keep my nigga on point.”
“Cutty, you a stand up cat. I was just telling Prince thatyou’re one of the realist niggaz down this way,” Truck lied. “Real stand up cat, man.”
“Thanks, Truck.”
“Listen, you got somewhere to be?”
“Nah, what up?”
“Got a li’l after-party going on over at the strip joint. You feel like rolling?”
“Shit, you ain’t gotta ask me twice. Let's bounce.”
The two men got up off the stoop and headed to the idling wago
n. Truck and Cutty walked shoulder to shoulder like two old friends. As Truck patted Cutty on the back and boosted his ego, all he needed was a knife.
Young Bobby made his way down Broadway, constantly checking his watch. It was his first night working in the projects. After quite a bit of nagging, School Boy had finally let Bobby get some money. He had a few minutes to spare, so he decided to smoke the blunt clip that he had in his pocket from the night before.
Bobby lit the weed and took a deep pull. He continued strolling up the block, never noticing the man in the blue hoodie following him. Bobby had almost made it to Columbus Avenue before Officer Brown made his move.
Officer Brown was dressed in jeans and a varsity jacket. He hadn’t yet earned his shield back, but Stark got him authorization to wear plainclothes for the assignment. An officer in uniform was easy enough to spot, but a black officer in uniform stuck out like a sore thumb. Brown walked up to Bobby and tapped him on the shoulder. When Bobby turned around, he found himself eye to eye with a police badge.
“Shit!” Bobby cursed.
“Shit is right,” Brown said. “And you’re in a world of it. Put your hands behind your back.”
“Ah,” Bobby pleaded, “come on, brother.”
“Brother? Get the fuck outta here. We ain’t brothers, punk. You ain’t nothing but a dope-pushing snake. But don’t worry about it. You’re gonna get to do some good for once.” As Officer Brown cuffed Bobby, a squad car followed by an unmarked van pulled up. Officer Brown put Bobby in the back of the car and walked to the driver's side window of the van.
“You know what to do?” Brown asked Officer Jenkins, who was behind the wheel, dressed in jeans and a leather jacket.
“Yeah,” Jenkins said. “I got this. Let's go, sunshine,” he said to Mikey, who was huddled in the rear of the van. Mikey didn’t like what he was being forced to do, but what choice did he really have? It was either them or him and he’d much rather save his own ass. Reluctantly, Mikey hopped from the van.
“Listen,” Brown said. “You play your cards right and everything will be fine, Mikey. If you try something stupid, my partner will shoot you. Got that?”
