Street Dreams

by K'wan

  Trinity sat on the bench in front of 845 with Shamel. Through everything that had been going on over the past few weeks, he had been the most helpful. He was her shoulder when she needed to talk and her pit bull when something needed to be handled. Shamel was a jack of all trades and that's why she had made sure that Rio brought him into the organization. He had been loyal to Rio and forever at his side. The only reason that he wasn’t with him then was because Trinity had requested to speak with him.

  “What's up, Mel?” Trinity asked.

  “It doesn’t look good, T,” Shamel said sadly. “The word on the streets is that Truck has been trying to lay the pressure on all of our workers. He figures he can force them to chose him. I even heard that he had li’l Marv killed.”

  “Marv from sixtieth?” Trinity asked in shock.

  “Yeah. He was barely eighteen,” Shamel said solemnly.

  “Rio really liked that kid, too. How's he taking it?”

  “He doesn’t know yet. Rio's got enough on him as it is. I’ll tell him when I think the time is right.”

  “Yeah,” Trinity said, nodding. “That might be the best thing for him. What's up with Cutty?”

  “Still got his head jammed up Truck's ass.”

  “I don’t know about that cat, Shamel. Do you think that Cutty can be trusted?” she asked seriously.

  “I know Cutty. He can be a lot of things, but not disloyal. Honestly, I don’t think he knows what kind of snake Truck really is.”

  “Still, he could be a weak link. Maybe we should only feed him info on the need to know basis?”

  “You might have a point there, Trinity. Cutty means well, but his hardheadedness could blow everything.”

  “There's too much at stake to let it all go sour now, Mel.”

  “Don’t worry about it, T. I’ll handle Cutty.”

  “Okay, Mel. I trust you. What's up with that other thing?”

  “Oh,” Shamel said, smiling, “I got my li’l man on that right now. If Truck wants to play tit for tat, then so can we.”

  Jason came down the stairs of the tenement building followed by a bodyguard. He clutched a duffel bag, containing two hundred grand of Truck's money, under his arm. Usually he didn’t need a bodyguard, but in light of everything that was going on, Truck didn’t want him taking his chances.

  “Where’d you park?” Jason asked, looking at the bodyguard.

  “I got the ride double-parked around the corner,” the guard said.

  “Good. I wanna get the fuck outta this hood and drop this paper off.”

  The two men continued to walk and talk, never noticing Knowledge hiding in the shadows behind the staircase. As Jason reached for the exit door, Knowledge made his move. He crept up behind the guard and leveled his silenced .22. The bullet pierced the guard's skull, making a chirping sound. The guard was already dead before Jason even knew what was going on.

  “What the fuck?” Jason gasped.

  “Shut the fuck up,” Knowledge hissed. “Hand the bag over, nigga.”

  “Are you crazy?” Jason asked, not believing that the young kid had the balls to rob him.

  “Yep,” Knowledge said, looking at the dead guard. “Crazy than a ma fucka. If you don’t pass that bag over, you’ll see just how crazy I am.”

  “I don’t think you know who you’re fucking with.”

  “I know just who I’m fucking wit.” Knowledge clocked Jason with the butt of the gun, knocking him on his ass. “I don’t give a fuck about you or that faggot-ass nigga, Truck. Now up it, clown.”

  Jason reluctantly handed him the bag. “You’re playing yourself,” Jason said smugly. “When Truck finds out what you did, your life ain’t gonna be worth dick.”

  “Probably not,” Knowledge said, slinging the bag over his shoulder. “But who's gonna tell him?” Knowledge put two in Jason's head and ran into the street.

  24

  Kane sat on a bench inside Washington Square Park with a young lady. The girl blushed shyly as he fed her lies about how beautiful she was. He was a master at it. He would tell people anything they wanted to hear just to get what he wanted. At that moment, he wanted the girl.

  “You say the sweetest things, Sean,” said the girl.

  “I say them because they’re true,” Kane said. “Why don’t we get outta here and go someplace a little more private?” As Kane stood to leave with the young girl, he found himself surrounded by a half dozen angry men. Kane didn’t know the other five, but he recognized their leader.

  “Sup Kane?” Slim asked, grinning.

  “What do you want?” Kane asked, sounding irritated.

  “Truck didn’t like the half-ass job you and your boy did. He sent us down here to show you the error of your ways.”

  “Fellas,” Kane said, easing his hand into his pocket. “I’m sure we can talk about this.”

  “Don’t think so,” Slim smirked. “Business is business, dawg. I’m sure you understand?”

  As the first man moved, so did Kane. He snatched a small glass ball from his pocket and burst it on the man's skull. The battery acid that filled the ball splashed over the man's face. As the first man howled in pain, Slim raised his gun. He clapped two shots, but Kane used the girl as a human shield and the bullets ripped into her torso. Kane used the moment of confusion to run for the park exit.

  “Fuck is y’all standing around for!” Slim barked. “Kill that ma fucka!”

  The remaining killers took off in pursuit of Kane. Kane had a good head start, but the men were fast on his heels. He zigged and zagged through the blocks, but he was unable to shake them. One of the men got close enough to grab Kane's coat, only to have his hand severed by the blade Kane kept concealed. The man dropped and clutched at his stump, but Kane never saw it. He just kept moving.

  As Kane crossed Hudson Street, a slug slammed into his shoulder, just missing his body armor. He staggered a bit but didn’t fall. The bullet wound could be tended to later. Survival was the first order of business. He ran through the streets, calling for the Hound. He hoped that his brother was still somewhere in the area, but it wasn’t likely. Another slug hit Kane's leg, but it didn’t do much to slow him down. He figured once he reached the office building he was headed for, he’d be safe.

  When Kane reached the building, he didn’t bother to slow down. He lowered his shoulder and crashed through the glass doors. A foolish security guard tried to stop him and was rewarded by having his throat slashed. Before the body hit the ground, Kane was halfway to the elevator.

  “Don’t let that ma fucka get away,” Slim yelled, hopping over the dead guard. Slim fired three shots at the fleeing youngster. One went wild and shattered a window, the other two hit Kane in the back. Kane felt his strength fading from the loss of blood, but the need for survival drove him on. Just as Slim and his peoples were almost on him, Kane collapsed into the elevator.

  “You,” Slim barked to one of the men. “Try and find an emergency stop for this shit. The rest of you hit the stairs. That ma fucka can’t get but so far with four slugs in his ass.” The men went off and did as they were told.

  Kane climbed out of the elevator at the fifth floor, which also happened to be the top floor. He knew it wouldn’t take his pursuers long to find him so he had to act fast. Willing himself to move, he began to crawl for the rear stairs. If he could only make it to the back exit, there was still hope. That hope fled when Slim came bursting onto the floor followed by two other men.

  “Where you going?” Slim asked, kicking him in the leg. “Made us chase you, ma fucka. Now you gonna die.”

  “Fuck you,” Kane wheezed. “I’m a fucking warrior. Fear don’t live here, pussy.”

  “Big talk,” Slim said, raising his gun, “for someone about to die.” Just as Slim was about to pull the trigger, he heard a howling. “Fuck is that?” Slim asked the other shooters.

  “That,” Kane said, laughing, “is death. Die bitches!!” As soon as the words left Kane's mouth, the hallway lights flickered and d
ied. Slim placed his back against the wall and tried to get a clue as to what was going on. Through the darkness he heard an animal-like growling. The growling was followed by the most horrific screams Slim had ever heard. He quickly started firing blind into the blackness, not caring if he hit the attacker or his own men.

  With all of his bullets spent, Slim dropped to the ground and crawled into a fetal position. As he cringed in the corner, something warm splashed against his face. As the warm liquid trickled down his cheek and across his lip, he immediately recognized the taste. It was blood.

  Throwing caution to the wind, Slim got up and ran for his life. He had made it a few feet when someone grabbed him by the throat. He struggled against the grip, but was unable to break it. The backup lights kicked on and Slim wished that it had stayed dark. He found himself face to face with Hound. The killer's face and clothes were covered with blood, and he stared wild-eyed at Slim.

  “Silly ma fucka,” Hound snarled, drawing a large knife with ridges made to gut fish. “You come through our hood and lay hands on my blood?”

  “Wait,” Slim coughed. “It wasn’t my idea! It was Truck! It was all him!”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Hound said, leaning in close. “You two can point fingers at each other in hell.”

  On the street below, people were looking around nervously to see where the horrible screaming was coming from. It sounded like a cross between Axel Rose and a mating cat. Then Slim's headless body fell five stories and splattered on the ground.

  Truck stood in the underground parking garage, talking to the last remaining member of the death squad he had sent after Kane. “Fuck is you talking about?” Truck asked in disbelief.

  “Dead,” the last surviving shooter repeated. “The whole squad, wiped out.”

  “I’m not understanding this,” Truck said, grabbing the shooter by the neck. “I sent you ma fuckas down there with Slim to kill one little shit bird and you tell me that everybody got wasted?”

  “Truck,” the shooter said, gasping for air. “I don’t know how it happened. We shot the boy up something fierce, but it's like he was too damn stubborn to lay down. We chased him into this building by the water and shit. Slim left me downstairs to try and find a stop button for the elevator. So, while I’m downstairs I hear this howling. I’m making my way up the stairs to see what's going on when I hear bullets and screaming. Now I ain’t the smartest nigga in the world, but I know something ain’t right, so I boogied. As I’m coming out of the building… “

  “What else?” Truck asked, shaking him.

  “Slim… his body came flying out of the window, but the thing is… his head was gone.”

  Truck released the shooter. “Not my nigga,” he said, sobbing. “How can y’all let one cat lick you like that?”

  “Truck, this kid was a fucking soldier. He had all kinds of tricks up his sleeve. Ma fucka Tim is still in the hospital with burns on his neck and face, while Jim lost his hand. I was lucky to get up outta there.”

  “Yeah,” Truck said, eyeing the shooter. “Lucky or in on it.”

  “Hold on,” the shooter said, backing up. “You know that I wouldn’t shit on you, in no kinda way, Truck. But this kid that you sent us for knows his shit. He murdered a security guard without breaking his stride. Truck, you picked the wrong ma fucka to put the finger on.”

  “Fuck that. Kane bleeds just like the rest of us. You think I just fell outta my momma's ass? You a lying ma fucka, yo,” Truck said, pulling his gun. “There will be no weak links in this organization. You’ve outlived your usefulness.”

  “Wait!” the shooter pleaded. “I ain’t cross you, Truck! Just let me — “ That was as far as he got before Truck put one in his head. The shooter slid down the wall of the parking garage, with his brains leaving a trail of goo. Truck hopped into his jeep and pulled off.

  Truck was so mad that you could almost see steam coming out of his head. It seemed like everything was going goofy on him. Kane had proven to be more dangerous than Truck had given him credit for. But dangerous or not, that skinny bastard was gonna die slowly.

  Then there was the issue of his two hundred grand. With the reputation that Truck had in the streets, none of the stick-up kids would’ve been crazy enough to try him. There was an unspoken law: If you fuck with Truck, you die. There were only a select few people that would’ve had the balls to pull that one off. Truck couldn’t prove it, but he knew that Rio had something to do with it. The youngster had proven that he could be quite cagey. That was okay though. Truck was through playing nice. If Rio wanted to act like a big boy, Truck was gonna treat him like one.

  Mikey strolled along Broadway lost in his thoughts. He couldn’t understand how he could’ve allowed himself to get caught up in this fucked-up situation. For the first time in his life he was getting money and it was thanks to Rio's organization. School Boy had taken him in and given him a way to get money, but Mikey wore a false face. Under the surface, he was nothing but a fucking snitch. Since the police had turned him, Mikey had been having some serious emotional issues. He had trouble looking at himself in the mirror while carrying the burden of what he was doing. As fucked up as it might’ve been, Mikey had to chose between himself or Rio. In the hood, it was every man for himself.

  As Mikey crossed One hundredth Street, a green van came to a screeching halt in front of him. Before Mikey had a chance to react, two sets of arms snatched him into the van. Mikey was tossed roughly onto the floor and the door shut behind him. The van's engine roared once and took off. Mikey's first thought was that somebody had found out he was snitching and he was going to die. But when he looked up and saw Detective Stark smiling down at him, he knew he was wrong.

  “What's up there, Mikey?” Stark said, flashing his yellow teeth. “We didn’t scare you, did we?”

  “Man, fuck y’all want?” Mikey asked as he tried to sit up.

  “What kind of way is that to talk to a friend?” Stark asked, faking concern.

  “Fuck you,” Mikey spat. “We ain’t friends.”

  “Whatever, kid. What do you got for us?”

  “Nothing yet. I been slinging for them, but I can’t catch Rio dirty. Now if y’all want me to give you School Boy, I can —”

  “Fuck that,” Stark cut him off. “We want Rio.”

  “Hold on,” Brown said, making his presence known for the first time. “Maybe the kid is on to something? If we bring this School Boy in, maybe he can help us pin something on one of the higher-ups?”

  “Nah, Brown. We ain’t got that kinda time,” Stark said, shaking his head. “If we keep bullshitting, someone else is gonna end up pinching that fuck Rio and taking the credit for our work. Look,” he said, facing Mikey. “You get your ass back on them streets and get us something solid on this prick or it's back to the joint with you. Maybe you’ll get yourself a nice boyfriend upstate.”

  “So,” Brown said. “Now what Stark?”

  “Now, we take it to another level. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before, but I’m calling in a favor.”

  “A favor?” Brown asked curiously.

  “Yeah. I got a pal downtown, by the name of Peterson, who worked on a case ten years ago. He was working for the NYPD when he locked up a mutual friend of ours. He works for the Feds now. The guy owes me a favor. It's a long shot, but it may put us a step closer to nailing Rio.”

  “What about the other Capos?”

  “I ain’t worried about those dickheads. They got about an ounce of good sense between them. Rio's the real threat.”

  “Have you forgotten about Truck?”

  “You don’t worry about old Truck. Our focus here is on Rio.”

  “Stark, why do you have such a hard-on for this kid? I know he's doing dirt, but the rest of them aren’t any cleaner.”

  “Hey, I’m running this, Officer Brown. You let me worry about who's dirty and who's not. If you had been able to get anything from that cunt girlfriend of his, we might have an easier time of it,” Star
k said sharply.

  “Trinity? I don’t think she knows anything.” Brown said honestly.

  “Bullshit. That bitch is knee-deep in this shit. She's a slick one all right. I wouldn’t be surprised if she had something to do with Rio killing her old man.”

  “Stark, we don’t know for sure that Rio killed Baker.”

  “Oh, he killed him all right. He had motive and opportunity. Rio's a murderer and I’m gonna make sure he gets the needle for it. With any luck, we can get the girlfriend as an accessory. As a matter of fact, bring the bitch in for questioning.”

  “But why?” Brown asked.

  “What the fuck is it with you and this broad?”

  “Nothing. I just believe that she's a good kid. She might be a little misguided, but I don’t think she's tied directly into this.”

  “Well, if she isn’t, then we’ll make sure that she is. You just do your fucking job, Officer Brown. Don’t make me pull rank.”

  “Yes sir,” Brown said sarcastically. Brown was getting tired of Stark and his obsession with Rio. He didn’t mind doing his job and helping to bring the kid in if he was dirty, but bringing down innocent people wasn’t what he signed on for. This shit was getting too deep for him. Brown knew he had a choice to make. He could either do his job or do the right thing.

  Joyce came strutting from the building like she was the queen of Sheeba. It had been all about her for the last few weeks. Joyce hadn’t been fucking with Alexis or Trinity for quite some time. She had made the mistake of getting drunk one night and confiding in Alexis what she had tried to pull with Rio. Instead of praising her for her attempt to shoot for the stars, Alexis beat her ass. What Joyce didn’t understand was that, although she and Alexis were friends, Trinity was more like a sister.

  Alexis had beat her something terrible, but she said that she wouldn’t break her girl's heart and tell. “Fuck em,” Joyce said to no one in particular. She reasoned that Alexis was just jealous that she hadn’t thought of it first. Trinity, on the other hand, was a different story. If the dumb bitch had kept a tighter hold on that fine-ass nigga, then she would’ve never been able to lure him off. It didn’t matter though. Joyce had her own sugar daddy now.