by K'wan
“Trinity, I don’t think we should be talking about this.”
“Rio, if you truly love me then you’ll tell me.”
Rio had known this day would come, but that didn’t make it any easier. The memory of what happened that fateful night hurt almost as much as knowing he took his lady's father. As painful as it might’ve been, Trinity deserved to know.
“Okay,” he said sadly. “I’ll tell you. When I found out what Baker was doing to you, I was beside myself with rage. I wanted him to hurt just like you did. I was standing on the avenue when I saw your father going down the block with a young girl. When I set out to follow him, I didn’t intend to kill him. I figured that I could scare him with the gun and beat him down if anything. Well, it didn’t go like I planned. Your father reached for the gun and it went off.”
“So,” she began, “what happened after you shot him?”
“I ran and called Prince.”
“So he died of a gunshot?” she asked, shocked.
“Yeah. What did you think?”
“When Officer Brown came to speak to me about it, he told me that they had located part of him.”
“Trinity what the hell are you talking about?” he asked, feeling like he was missing something.
“They said that one of my father's hands was found in a meat warehouse in Brooklyn.”
“Trinity, what kind of monster do you think I am? I’ll admit, I killed your father, but I didn’t mean to. But to think that I would cut off his hands?”
“I’m sorry,” she said, wiping her eyes. “But I had to know, Rio.”
“It's okay,” he said, hugging her. “Let's just put all that behind us. You, me, and Billy are gonna build a nice life together.”
Rio felt a little better after talking about what happened that night. He had held it inside of himself so long that he feared it would drive him crazy. What troubled him was that he had left Baker whole, but the police found a piece of him. Prince said that he would take care of the body, but he never mentioned dismembering it. Prince was a cold ma fucka in life. Rio wondered if he had what it took to fill Prince's shoes.
Rio was done dressing and ready to go, but there was one more question that nagged at Trinity. “Rio,” she said, pausing, “one more thing?”
“What's that, T?”
“The girl, what happened to her?”
That was a question Rio hoped he would never have to answer. Every time he looked at a young girl in the streets, he thought about the precious young life he had taken. It was too much for him to talk about. “Trinity,” he said looking her dead in the eye. “Some things are better left unsaid.” On that note Rio led the way from the hospital room. Trinity could read between the lines. It would be the last time that she asked Rio about the murders.
23
Prince's funeral turned out to be a parade of stars. Hustlers, as well as a few politicians, were lined wall-to-wall, trying to catch their last glimpses and to bid farewell to the fallen kingpin.
J was taking it pretty hard. He and Prince had been friends since before most of the Capos had been alive. He blamed himself for not being at Prince's side. He figured that if he’d been there, Prince would still be alive. But no one could’ve saved Prince. Hound was among the elite as far as killers went. He had been bred and trained to take life. There was no escape once he had been sent for you.
Truck could’ve won an Oscar for his role as the broken son. He was ranting and crying over the twin caskets of his father and younger brother. Rio watched his little performance from his seat on the front row and shook his head. He knew Truck was full of shit. He just needed a way to prove it.
The service lasted about an hour. The preacher talked about how Prince was a respected businessman and a pillar of the community. It was all bullshit, but it sounded good. After everyone had paid their respects, they all filed out of the funeral home for the drive across the water to the cemetery. Rio was going to ride up with Trinity, but J informed him that he would ride in a separate limo with the Capos. Just as Rio had expected, Truck had called an emergency meeting.
The Capos limo was a stretch Escalade. Rio climbed into the backseat of the ride and was greeted by the other five Capos as well as J and Truck. Everyone wore faces of grief, but there was a mutual problem that needed to be addressed. Prince had left a vacant throne and it needed filling.
“Take a seat, kid,” J said. Rio did as he was instructed. “Okay, you got us all here, Truck, so speak your piece.”
“Thanks, J,” Truck said, through fake tears. “I wanna thank all of you guys for coming out to pay your last respects to my father.”
“Ain’t nothing,” said Jake, a well-built brown-skinned man.
“Yeah, brother,” added Big Paul. “We all loved Prince. He brought a lot of us up from the gutter. We’re gonna miss him.” Paul stood out among the other Capos. Not because he was the only white Capo, but because he was dressed in leather pants and a leather vest, sporting his gang emblem
“I know,” Truck said. “That's why we have to continue what he started. I think it's only right that we honor my father's memory by seeing his operation prosper.”
“Listen,” Marco said, running his hand across his shaved head. “We’re all very sorry that Prince is gone, but he was the brain of this operation. He held it down for a good while. Who's gonna take over now?”
“Me, of course,” Truck said.
“Hold on,” Gino said, raising his lanky frame from the plush seat. “I know that you’re his kid, but who says that you should slide into his spot? You’ve been gone for ten years, Truck. The streets are different now. Maybe someone with a little more knowledge of what's going on should lead us,” he said honestly.
“Fuck outta here,” Truck snapped viciously. “Prince was my father. If anyone should lead us, it's me.”
“Slow down,” J said. “It ain’t as simple as that. Prince wasn’t sure who his successor was going to be. You’re his blood, but Rio was his student. Every knows that. It was a toss up between the two of you.”
“Rio,” Truck asked in disbelief. “He might’ve been my father's herb, but I’m heir to the empire. Ain’t no fake-ass gangsta gonna slide in and take my spot. I ain’t having it.”
“Yo,” Rio cut in. “I loved Prince, not for what he did in the streets, but for what he did for me as a person. Price looked out for me when nobody else would. Nobody was affected by his death like I was. I almost lost my life the night he was killed.”
“Yeah,” Truck said. “Mighty funny that when my father comes down to talk to you he gets killed.”
“Fuck you, Truck. I got shot up that night, too. Do you think that I would have someone damn near kill me to get Prince out of the way? Truck, you’re a clown.”
“You watch your fucking mouth,” Truck barked. “I don’t have a problem kicking your ass. You damn — “
“Cut that shit,” J said, interrupting “That man ain’t even in the ground yet and y’all squabbling like a bunch of bitches. Man — the — fuck — up.” He sneered, jabbing his index finger to drag out the last sentence.
“My bad,” Rio said, lowering his voice. “I ain’t mean to come across like that. Listen,” Rio said, addressing all of the Capos, “I could give a shit about who gets control over what. Someone that I care about is dead. Whether Prince wanted Truck to run the show or me, I don’t care. If it's that serious, Truck and me could share the responsibility.”
“That doesn’t sound like a bad idea,” J said, thoughtfully. “What about the rest of you?”
“Sounds okay to me,” said Big Paul.
“Fuck it,” Jake said.
“I don’t know about all that,” Gino protested. “Rio's a good kid, but he just got down. I think that if it doesn’t go to one of us,” he motioned to the other Capos, “it should go to Truck.”
“That might not be a bad thing,” Breeze said, wiping beads of sweat from his round, chocolate face. “Truck is Prince's son.”
“I dunno,” Marco said
, thinking the matter over. “Rio has proven himself. Maybe we should give him a play. If he fucks up, we can always kill him. No?” He made the last statement in a joking manner, but Rio doubted that he was playing.
“I don’t believe this shit,” Truck said, outraged. “We shouldn’t even be having this discussion. It should go to me.”
“Look,” J cut in. “We could argue about this shit until the cows come home and it still ain’t gonna pick a new general. I suggest that they share the title. At least until we can come to some kind of decision.”
“Fuck that, J!” Truck roared. “It's my spot and you know it!”
“Regardless of what you think, Truck, we all have to agree. Until we can get this problem solved, you and Rio will run the show together, under the watchful eyes of the other Capos.”
Truck didn’t say anything else on the matter. He knew as long as they did things diplomatically, he was stuck. His only hope was to get the other Capos behind him. Once he was able to accomplish that, Rio would be executed. Little did he know, Rio was thinking the exact same thing about him.
The next few weeks were very tense in the hood. By then the dispute over Prince's legacy between Rio and Truck had become public knowledge. Some of the soldiers loved the idea of Rio taking over. He was always fair with them. But others wanted to see Truck in power. It was as if Prince's empire had split down the middle. Some of the soldiers even took to getting at each other in territorial-type disputes. For the time being they were isolated incidents. But it was only a matter of time before a civil war erupted between the two sides.
Truck sat inside the small restaurant talking to his partner Slim. “Shit is crazy,” Truck said, taking a fork full of rice. “I should’ve been given the title, hands down.”
“Don’t worry,” Slim said. “We’re gonna work this shit out, dawg. That nigga Rio can’t see you.”
“I’m gonna fix his ass, Slim. Watch and see. But on another note, I need you to handle something.”
“Anything, Truck. Just tell me who gotta die.”
“That's what I like to hear, baby. I need you to take a few of the guys and go see that nigga, Kane.”
“You mean that kid from the village?”
“Yeah, that's him. Old-boy done got beside himself. He needs to be put down.”
“No problem, Truck. I never liked that creepy ma fucka anyway.”
“You go down there and make that boy hurt. You hear me, Slim?” Truck asked emotionally.
Slim peeped the hostility in Truck's voice, but he held it. Whatever Truck's reason for wanting Kane dead didn’t matter. The important thing was that Truck was his friend and boss of their crew. At least in his eyes. “Like I said,” Slim said, standing. “Kane is a dead man. We’ll get on that tonight.”
“That's why I fuck with you, Slim. You about your business. Make it so that punk doesn’t see the light of day.”
Young Marv sat in the staircase of the building, moving stones. The flow was bananas and he was moving the crack faster than it was being packaged. Marv was a nobody from nowhere. He had no family and no home. Nobody wanted to give him a shot, but Rio had. He gave Marv a job and made sure that he was a’ight. Marv was forever grateful for Rio's kindness and gave him his undying loyalty.
Marv was snapped out of his thoughts by the sound of the staircase door to his rear creaking open. Marv relaxed a little bit when he saw that the person coming his way was a crackhead. “How many you need?” Marv asked. The crackhead didn’t respond, he only stared. “You hear me talking to you? Look, if you ain’t buying then move on.”
“I didn’t come to buy nothing,” the crackhead said. “I brought you a message from Truck.”
“Fuck kinda message you got for me?”
“Rio's fifteen minutes of fame are about over. Truck is gonna be running the show soon. He says that if you guys wanna keep eating then you had better come on over to his side.”
“Listen,” Marv said. “I don’t have anything to do with Rio and Truck's beef. Truck didn’t put me on, Rio did. So all that shit you popping don’t hold no weight. I’m sticking with Rio.”
“Have it your way.” The crackhead pulled a .32 from his jacket pocket and fired a single shot. The bullet crashed into Marv's chest and sent him flying down the stairs. Marv looked on in shock as the blood squirted from his chest. As Marv lay on the pissy ground, bleeding out, the crackhead shot him in the face. Marv was dead at the age of seventeen.
Rio sat on the bench in front of 875 watching the fiends come and go. His arm was in a cast and his ribs still pained him, but that didn’t affect his thinking abilities. Ever since the shooting, he made it his business to be extra careful. He carried a gun at all times. His attorney had advised him against it, but he wasn’t trying to hear that shit. Epstein was from a world completely different from Rio's. At the end of the day, Epstein went home to his nice house and family, while Rio held sway over the unforgiven. The only law in the streets was survival of the fittest.
“How we looking?” Rio asked, giving School Boy dap.
“Everything is everything, boss,” School Boy replied. “I got Mikey and Jenkins holding this down and two of the young homeys pumping across the street. We on, baby.”
“Yo, Mikey used to run with the click, right?” Rio asked rubbing his chin.
“I guess so. He said he knew Mel,” School Boy said.
“You check him or his man out?”
“Nah, Rio. Shit been so crazy that it slipped my mind.”
“School Boy, I know that you know better than that? A mistake like that could catch you football numbers,” Rio said seriously.
“Man, them cats ain’t no police. They smoke too much weed to be the law.”
“So, you vouching for them?” Rio asked seriously.
“Ah,” School Boy stuttered, “I ain’t saying all that. I’m just saying that they’ve been on the up and up so far.”
“Fuck that. It's too much on the ball right now, School Boy. I put you on shift cause I know you’re always gonna handle business straight. But don’t let that fool you. Just like I gave it, I can take it away. Don’t fuck me over.”
“I’d cross my mama before I crossed you, Rio,” School Boy said nervously.
“Ma fuck’n right you will. The time for games is over, dawg. Either you in it to win or you serve no purpose. The choice is yours, School Boy.” Without waiting for an answer, Rio left School Boy to ponder his predicament.
School Boy was a little surprised by how Rio had came at him. Couldn’t say that he blamed him though. The kid had been through a lot. Rio was becoming increasingly paranoid of the people around him. What he said did make a lot of sense though. Mikey and Jenkins proved that they knew how to get paper, but he really didn’t know them like that. School Boy made a note to himself to dig a little deeper into the duo's background.
“What was that shit all about?” Cutty asked, catching up to Rio.
“Wasn’t nothing,” Rio said, lighting a cigarette. “Just trying to reac-quaint myself with the hood. That's all.”
“Fuck outta here,” Cutty said, nudging him. “You act like you was in the hospital for a long time.”
“I know I ain’t been gone that long, but since the shooting I haven’t really been in the streets like that.”
“Scary-ass nigga.”
“Fuck you, Cutty. It ain’t about being scared, it's about being careful. Nigga, you wasn’t the one laying in a pool of your own blood. That cat could’ve killed me.”
“Fuck that nigga. He was a fucking pussy. When I move on a nigga, he ain’t getting back up. He was probably more scared than you were.”
“Nah, Cutty. You didn’t see this cat. There wasn’t a drop of fear in his eyes.”
“So, why didn’t he kill you?”
“I don’t know, dawg. I just thank God every day for allowing me to live through it.”
“God ain’t got shit to do with it. If a nigga is pussy then he just is. I say we go find this nigga and pu
t him out of his misery.”
“Easier said than done, Cutty. We don’t even know where to start looking.”
“Fuck that. Somebody's gotta know this cat. He couldn’t have just popped outta nowhere. If he's out there, Rio, we’ll find him.”
Rio admired his friend's determination. Cutty was hell-bent on finding the gunman and putting it on him. Rio wouldn’t mind seeing the killer get what he deserved either. The Hound had taken someone very near and dear to him. Rio wanted him to pay, but seeing how the young killer moved, he wasn’t too sure if he wanted to be the one to find him.
“So where you been all day?” Rio asked, changing the subject.
“Oh, I was up the block shooting dice wit Truck and them niggaz,” Cutty replied.
“Truck? Since when y’all niggaz became so friendly?” Rio asked suspeciously.
“Ain’t about nothing. Truck is a’ight.”
“A’ight? Cutty, you act like you don’t know what's going on.”
“I know what's popping, Rio, but I think that all of this shit is stupid. We’re all supposed to be on the same team, but we’re fighting amongst each other.”
“Because of ya man, Truck,” Rio said, getting more agitated. “That nigga is the one wilding.”
“Truck has been through some shit, yo. If my pops got hit up, I’d be tripping, too.”
“Fuck, you siding with this nigga over me?”
“Never, kid. You my ace. I’m not co-signing for Truck, but maybe y’all should sit down and talk about this?”
“Fuck talking. Ya man made himself perfectly clear at the funeral. I offered a truce and he spit in my face. Truck isn’t content to share, so I’m claiming it all.”
“Just think about it, Rio.” Cutty pleaded.
“Cutty,” Rio said, his eyes becoming dark and sinister. “We’ve been friends for a long time, but never make me question your loyalty.”
Cutty nodded his head dumbly and left the situation alone. His long-time friend had never second-guessed him or raised his voice at him before. All he wanted was to get Rio to listen to reason. If he could get Rio to back off a bit, then maybe he could get a little piece of the hood on his own. Cutty was loyal to Rio, but more loyal to himself.
