Street Dreams

by K'wan

  “Word,” Shamel said, grinning. “My money ain’t green?”

  “Come on, Shamel. Look, we out here having a friendly game. Ain’t no big money over this way. We got short pockets, man.”

  “Yo, I ain’t on it like that. I made a career change, God. I don’t do the jacking no more. I’m just trying to kick it for a minute and roll a few dollars.”

  “A’ight.” The skinny roller sighed. “Sixteen to you.” The skinny roller tossed the dice like they sickened him to be in his hand. The dice danced around each other and clanked against the wall. Fever was the point.

  “I see you coming wit that heat?” Shamel asked as he picked up the dice.

  “What can I say?” The skinny roller asked. “Looks like I’m hot tonight.”

  “I can dig it.” Shamel glanced at the dice and his huge lips parted into a grin. “Five is the point.” Shamel let the dice bounce and four was what he rolled. “Looks like you win again, huh?”

  “Like I said,” The skinny roller said. “I’m hot tonight.” Shamel and the skinny roller went back and forth, each winning and losing. But the skinny roller always seemed to be up. Shamel spotted Knowledge creeping on the game so he took a break. The onlookers were pleased because it finally gave them a chance to try and come up.

  “What up, sun?” Shamel said, giving Knowledge dap.

  “Oh,” Knowledge said. “That was you over there at the dice game? Damn, I was thinking I had my car note over here and shit. You working these niggaz or what?”

  “Nah, I ain’t working em. I’m fucking wit Rio now, remember?”

  “Yeah, for sure. But speaking of that cat, you got the latest on him?”

  “Nah, I been gone the last two days. Took a ride up north to see my brother.”

  “Oh, what's up with the God?” Knowledge asked.

  “He chilling. But what's this you was telling me about Rio, Knowledge?”

  “Yo,” Knowledge said in a whisper. “I heard ya man snapped the other night. Murdered them stick-up niggaz from down the way.”

  “What stick-up niggaz?” Shamel asked, confused.

  “Boo and Kev. I heard Rio cold went Stallone out there. Nigga had a .45 in one hand, a desert in the other, and a banger in his ass. Stone cold bugging.”

  “Hold up, Darius-Rio?”

  “Ma fucka, ain’t that what I had said? Rio from 875. I heard Boo was talking crazy so Rio aired both of them niggaz out. Blew the back of Kev's skull off and put like six in Boo's face.”

  Shamel took it all in, but he couldn’t comprehend what Knowledge was saying. He knew that Rio was going through some things, but there was no way in the world that he had become homicidal. Rio was a lot of things, but a killer wasn’t one of them.

  “Knowledge,” Shamel began. “Where you getting your facts from?”

  “Same place you getting yours. The Vine. The clique might be over, but the Vine is always gonna be.”

  “You sure about this?”

  “Word is bond, God. I told it to you just like I got it.”

  All Shamel could do was shake his head. If he got it through the Vine then it was damn near accurate. It might not be right detail for detail, but the moral was still the same. Looked like Rio had stepped up into the ranks of the elite. He was really a gangsta now. Regardless of all that get-a-job-and-be-a-husband shit, blood don’t wash off.

  “I got to go check on my nigga,” Shamel said, heading back to the dice game. “Gimmie a sec, God.”

  The skinny roller had accumulated a fairly large bankroll by now. He was just about ready to step off and trick his money off with sack-chasers. “A’ight y’all,” the skinny roller said, tucking his winnings. “It's been real.” Just as the skinny roller turned to leave, Shamel stopped him.

  “Hold on,” Shamel said pleasantly. “Ain’t no more money in the bank?”

  “Nah, kid. The game is over.”

  “Nah,” Shamel said, pulling his glock. “I think the game is just beginning.”

  “Come on,” the skinny roller pleaded. “You said we was good, Mel.”

  “You piece of shit, lowlife. You think I don’t know when a ma fucka is trying to cheat me?”

  “What? I’d never cross you, Mel.”

  “Roll ya sleeves up, dick.”

  “Huh?”

  “Don’t play wit me, duke. I peeped you cuff the dice. Now, roll ya sleeves up or I’m gonna shoot you in the fucking foot.”

  Everybody at the game knew that Mel was serious. If he said that he was gonna shoot you, then you just might end up shot. Sweat began to pour from the skinny roller as the crowd looked on. He knew he didn’t have much choice in the matter, so he did as he was told. Tucked in his shirtsleeve for all to see were the funny dice. One showed sixes on two sides and the other showed four on two sides.

  “Dirty ma fucka!” Shamel barked, slamming his fist into the skinny roller's jaw. The skinny roller hit the floor with no resistance. Shamel kicked him in the ribs twice before stripping him of all his clothes. The skinny roller stood there butt-ass trying cover himself with his hat. “Now,” Shamel said. “Get the fuck up from around here.” To make sure the skinny roller understood him, Shamel gave him a swift kick in the ass. The skinny roller ran down the block crying. Shamel took most of the loot, the rest he tossed into the crowd. He didn’t really want the money, but ol’ boy had tried to outhustle a hustler. A mistake that he’ll hopefully learn from.

  “Five-O!” Shouted the lookout in front of 865. All of the workers scattered in various directions. This was nothing unusual. Whenever police came around, the homeboys would make themselves scarce. But when Detective Stark came around, everybody headed for the hills. Everybody except Rio. He was connected now, so there was no more running. He just sat there and continued smoking his cigarette.

  “Well, well,” Stark said, smiling. “My main man, Rio. What's up, brother?”

  “Fuck you,” Rio said, spitting on the ground. “We ain’t hardly brothers.”

  “Come on now, Darius. Ain’t that how you folks great each other down here?”

  “Man, get outta here with that Dolomite shit. Fuck you want with me, pig?”

  “Wanna ask you some questions, brother.”

  “Told you that we ain’t brothers. Furthermore, I ain’t got shit to say to you, fat boy.”

  “Oh,” Stark said, grabbing Rio by the shirt. “I think you do.” Rio swung both of his arms up and out, breaking Stark's hold on him. Stark took an awkward swing, which Rio blocked and countered with a right hook. Detective Stark was out on his feet. Before Rio could take another step, he was swarmed by blue uniforms. The police kicked and beat Rio until the darkness took him.

  When Rio awoke, he found himself lying on a concrete floor with one hell of a headache. When he tried to sit up, it felt as if someone had glued his hair to the ground. Maybe it was best for him to lie there for a while. He closed his eyes and tried to figure out exactly how he had allowed himself to end up in this situation. He knew Stark was just trying to get under his skin and he fed into it anyway. That was just plain stupid on his part. Now he had to sit and wait.

  After about ten minutes or so, Rio mustered the strength to pull himself up. He was in a holding cell somewhere. Knowing Stark, it was probably the twenty-fourth. The cell was more or less empty. With the exception of Rio, a drunk, and two crackheads, there was no one else in the cell. The crackheads looked like they wanted to say something to Rio, but seeing the look on his face they decided against it.

  Rio made his way to the chipped-up mirror that hung on the far wall of the cell. He couldn’t help but wonder if he looked anything like he felt? He looked into the mirror and a broken man stared back at him. His face bore the scrapes and bruises of his little scuffle. Nothing that wouldn’t heal over time. His lip was swollen and his front tooth felt like it was barely hanging on. Other than that he wasn’t hurting too bad. His pride was more damaged than anything else.

  Fucking pigs had really tried to do him dirty. “Pun
k ma fuckas,” Rio said, as he spit through the bars. He took one last look in the mirror and shook his head. Rio had always said that he would never be caged again, but here he was in the holding tank with two hypes and a wino. Fuck was he doing to himself? This was hardly his style. His mother always said that his temper would get him into trouble. “So much like your father.” She would tease.

  Stark came at Rio on some bullshit and that's what got him popped in his mouth from the gate. Talking about they just wanted to ask some questions. Rio wasn’t a dummy. He knew just what they had brought him in for. Two dead bodies pop up in the projects and the first person they grab is the one who's running the show. The cost to be the fucking boss.

  In all truthfulness, Rio didn’t even know why he had shot Boo. It was as if all the hate and anger he carried with him had forced its way to the surface. For the briefest instant the rage had been loosed. That one moment of weakness had cost a young man his life. Dumb-ass move. When Rio got in the game, he said that he would change it to suit his needs. But did it end up being the other way around?

  Cutty sat up in the spot with Truck, Slim, and another kid that he didn’t know. Drinks were being poured and blunts were being passed, as the Lakers put the hurt on the Knicks. Cutty gave Truck dap as he passed him another cup of “Hulk.” Truck was an all right dude. Cutty couldn’t figure why Rio was so leery of the cat. Sure he was a little shifty, but so were the rest of them. They were all players in a filthy game, fuck did he expect? As far as Cutty could see, Truck showed nothing but love to his peoples.

  “How that Hulk got you feeling?” Truck asked, putting the finishing touches on a blunt.

  “This shit is alight,” Cutty said, taking a deep gulp. “Not bad at all.”

  “Good, good. I like to make sure that my fam is comfortable. You know you my fam, right, Cutty?”

  “Fo sho, Truck. We all play on the same team.”

  “Nah, I don’t mean it like that. I mean, I call you my family, like blood. Fuck this cartel shit.”

  “That's deep, Truck. Thanks.”

  “Yeah, you bout ya business, Cutty. That's why I fuck wit you.”

  “I just do what needs to be done to win, that's all.”

  “Right. Say, I heard about that li’l work y’all put in the other day.”

  “What work?” Cutty asked playing dumb.

  “Aww come on,” Truck said, sliding closer to whisper. “I ain’t no square nigga just off the lookout, kid. I know any and everything that goes on in this circle here. You know what the fuck I’m talking about.”

  “Afraid I don’t.”

  “Anyhow, I’ll just put it to you like this; somebody put the hurt on Kev and Boo the other day. Right there on Colombus Ave. Blew the back ofKev's head offand gave Boo a crown oflead and smoke, dig me?”

  “Damn, I had heard something about that, Truck. But that wasn’t none of my doing.”

  “Don’t bullshit me, nigga. I got eyes everywhere. You shot Kev and Rio put Boo to sleep. Now, when I heard that you caught a body it wasn’t no big shock. Youz a trigger-happy young nigga, so I expect shit like that from you. Executions in broad daylight? Heaven help the game. But you know what it was that fucked me up about the whole thing, Cutty?”

  “Nah, what was that, Truck?”

  “Rio putting in work. That shit just don’t compute in my brain. Now, I’ve known Rio since he was young. He’ll scrap with anything on two legs, but killing? I don’t believe it, Cutty. The boy ain’t built like that.”

  “Like I said,” Cutty grinned, “I really don’t know what you’re talking about. If it went down like you said, then that was a prime piece of work. But we can’t take the credit for it, yo. You’re a hellified general, but I see the kink in your armor, player.”

  “Kink? What kinda shit you talking, boy?” Truck asked, not understanding.

  “It's like this,” Cutty said. “You underestimate people. You think what you see of em on the outside is what they’re made of. It ain’t like that, man. You gotta be careful of everybody. Don’t never put nothing pass a nigga. Shit, even the prettiest rose has thorns.”

  Truck rubbed his bumped chin and stared at Cutty. The kid knew how to play it to the chest. Another angle was in order. “I feel you,” Truck said, lighting the spliff. “The only reason I asked you was because Rio got locked up a while ago.”

  “Locked up?” Cutty asked, unable to hide his shock. “For what?”

  “For that shit I was just asking you about. Stark came through the hood to pick him up and Rio wigged. Heard he knocked Stark out right in front of 865.”

  “I ain’t know nothing about that. I gotta roll down to see if my nigga is good.”

  “Don’t wet it, Cutty. The lawyer's already on his way. Rio should be out in a few hours. Might as well kick back and enjoy the entertainment.”

  “What entertainment?” In answer to Cutty's question, the doorbell chimed. Slim hopped up and looked through the peephole. After making sure the visitor was okay, he looked back and smiled at the fellas. When Slim opened the door three fine ladies walked in wearing overcoats. Slim whispered something to the leader of the pack and slipped her an envelope. After conversing with her girls, they simultaneously shed their overcoats. The three young ladies were sporting thongs and stiletto heels. As they began to wiggle and grind for the fellas, Cutty couldn’t help but smile. That Truck was sure all right.

  Trinity sat up on her bed, trying to make heads or tails out of her math book. She had been studying for the past few days, trying to take her mind off Rio. That was easier said than done. A person's soul mate only came along once in a lifetime and she knew that Rio was hers. As Trinity continued to stare at her book, daydreaming, she could feel her eyelids slipping shut. She tried to fight it, but it was no use. It had been quite some time since she had a good night's rest. She lay back on her pillow and let the sleep take her. As Trinity slept, she dreamed.

  Trinity saw herself not as she was, but as she might’ve looked if she were born two millennia before. She was dressed in peasant's rags, crossing a barren land. At her side was Rio. He too was dressed in a simple robe and sandals. Behind them were the remains of a ruined city.

  Trinity spared only a brief glance at the city before Rio pushed her forward. Scratches covered his sweaty face. He looked around wide-eyed. Something had him scared, but she wasn’t sure what. Rio continued pushing her along while clutching a small package under his arm. Trinity was about to ask him what they were running from when she heard the charge of horses behind her.

  She looked over her shoulder and saw three hooded men, riding black horses. Rio handed Trinity his package and turned to stand against the men, but they overwhelmed him. The hooded men bound Rio in chains and dragged him back to the city. Trinity followed them into the crumbled husk.

  The inside of the city looked almost as bad as the outside. Houses and shops were crumbling and acres of crops were rotting away. Skeletal-looking townsfolk were shuffling along in the direction that the horsemen had taken Rio. The people looked malnourished and dirty. The city was more like a ghost town than anything else.

  There was a large knot of people gathered in what must’ve been the town square. They were chanting something in a language that was alien to her. Whatever the words were they weren’t nice. Trinity followed the crowd to the center of the commotion. People were screaming and casting stones, but she couldn’t see what they were aiming at. By the time she made it to the front of the crowd, she felt her breath leave her body.

  In the center of the crowd was Rio. The horsemen had dragged him into the center of the square and tied him to a large oak tree. A rusty chain wrapped around the tree held his arms spread apart. There were tears in his eyes as he looked down at his lover. Trinity tried to go to Rio, but she found herself unable to move. All she could do was look on in horror as Rio was stoned and spat on.

  Trinity sobbed uncontrollably as Rio was tortured. The leader of the horsemen stepped up holding a sword. As he looked
out over the mob, his dark eyes seemed to come to rest on Trinity. Something about his eyes was familiar to her. The horsemen removed his hood and he smiled at her. The face he wore was Truck's.

  Trinity recoiled in shock as Truck continued to speak to the crowd in the foreign tongue. She still couldn’t understand the dialect, but she was able to make out the word “Judas.” Truck motioned to another of the horsemen and flashed a wide grin. When the second horsemen removed his hood, he wore the face of Cutty. The nightmare was becoming too much for Trinity.

  She looked up at Rio as his tormentors continued to speak to the crowd. There was no hope left in Rio's eyes, only tears. He was trying to say something to her, but she wasn’t sure what it was. His lips were moving, but there was no sound. Suddenly the package under Trinity's arm began to pulsate. She looked to Rio and he nodded at the package. Trinity opened the package and found a beating heart inside. When she looked back to Rio, she noticed a gaping hole in his chest. She now understood why the package was so important to him. Her lover had entrusted her with his heart.

  Trinity tried to call out to Rio. She wanted to tell him that she was sorry and that she would forever love him, but her words made no sense. The horseman who wore Truck's face raised his sword and turned his gaze back to Trinity. She couldn’t bear to watch as he brought his blade across Rio's neck.

  Trinity awoke to find herself drenched in sweat. She looked around the tiny bedroom wild-eyed and disoriented. She managed to relax a little when she realized that she was in her room. She knew that she had had a terrible nightmare, but the details were sketchy. The only thing that she was sure of was that Rio needed her. She had almost finished dressing when there was a knock at the front door.

  “Got your black ass now,” Stark said, leaning on the bars. “Thought you were pretty smart, huh?”

  “Fuck you,” Rio said as he lay back on the iron bench.

  “Hmpf, tough talk, Darius. We’ll see how smart your mouth is when you’re indicted on murder charges.”