Street Dreams

by K'wan

  26

  Trinity,” Rio said excitedly into the phone. “What are you doing right now?”

  “What?” she asked. “I’m in the house. Why?”

  “I gotta talk to you and I can’t do it over the phone. Can you come and meet me?”

  “Yes, but hold up. I got something I need to talk to you about, too. It's in regards to our plan.”

  “Good, cause that's what I need to talk to you about. Can you meet me uptown?”

  “Yes, but what's wrong with you? You sound like you’ve just hit the lotto.”

  “Almost as good. Look, meet me inside of Crab Inn on 125th, okay?”

  “Okay, Rio.”

  “Love you, ma.” Rio hung up the phone and got back to join Shamel and Cutty.

  “Was that T?” Shamel asked.

  You know it,” Rio responded.

  “Did you tell her yet?”

  “Nah, I’m gonna wait until she gets uptown.”

  “I still can’t believe it,” Cutty said. “They finally bumped your square ass up.”

  “Bout fucking time,” Rio said, excitedly. “I’m gonna change the game, fellas.”

  “A lot of niggaz thought that they can change the game, Rio.”

  “I know, Cutty. But I’m gonna actually do it. The time for all this madness is at an end. The drug game in New York is gonna change for the better.”

  “Fuck kinda sense does that make?” Cutty asked. “How you ever gonna make slinging poison a good thing?”

  “Not the poison itself, Cutty, but the way we do it. With all of the money that we haul in off this shit, our hoods shouldn’t be all messed up. I’m gonna do what the fucking government won’t. These kids out here need something to call their own. It might take a while, but I’m gonna do my part.”

  “Fool,” Shamel said, chuckling. “You gonna be a broke ass hell trying to help all these niggaz.”

  “Ain’t about the money, Mel. It's about not wanting to see my people starve. My wife and my family are always gonna get first, but I’m gonna try and do something for the ma fuckas that ain’t got nothing.”

  “Always the champion, huh, Rio?”

  “If not me, then who? I’ll see yall niggaz later.” Rio gave his peoples dap and headed out.

  “Man,” Cutty said, “sometimes I wonder if that ain’t the biggest fool to ever push a bundle?”

  “Though he might be a fool to some, he's a savior to others. Later on, Cutty.”

  “I still say he's a fool,” Cutty said to Shamel's back. Just then Cutty's cell went off. “Yeah? Oh, what up Truck? Huh? Yeah, I could take those off your hands. How much? Twelve hundred dollars for all three? Shit, yeah. I’ll be there in a few.” Cutty hung up his cell phone and headed for the cab base. It seemed like Rio wasn’t the only person who had gone crazy. Truck had just agreed to sell Cutty two 9's and a .380 for short paper. If it had been anyone else, Cutty would’ve been suspicious of the low price, but this was Truck. He figured that he was getting the guns for so cheap because they were peoples. That's how friends did each other, right?

  Trinity was walking uptown on her way to meet Rio. She wanted to tell him what was going down but he refused to talk over the phone. She would just have to wait until she saw him to deliver the news. Trinity was sidetracked when Joyce came running up behind her.

  “Girl,” Joyce said. “I’ve been trying to catch up with you for the last few blocks. Where you headed?”

  “Got something to take care of uptown,” Trinity said without bothering to stop.

  “So why you walking instead of taking a cab?”

  “I felt like walking to clear my head.”

  “Well, I’m going that way, so I’ll walk with you.”

  Trinity didn’t really feel like being bothered, but she let Joyce walk with her. For the whole walk Joyce ran her mouth about this or that. Trinity was only half listening to the neighborhood gossip that Joyce was kicking. She was so wrapped up into her thoughts that she never noticed the van following them. When they reached 111th and Morn-ingside, Joyce had a suggestion.

  “T, cut through the block with me so I can get some smoke from this nigga,” she said. Trinity thought nothing of it, so she made the detour behind Joyce. When they were well into the block, the van that had been following them pulled to a stop alongside the girls. Four men wearing ski masks hopped out and rushed toward Trinity.

  When the first man moved on Trinity, she reacted more out of fear than bravery. Snatching the switchblade from her purse, Trinity swung her hand up and across. The blade cut through wool and flesh as the first man tried to keep the skin from falling from his face. When the second man tried to grab Trinity from behind, she caught him in the side with the blade. When he tried to jerk away from her, the blade remained lodged in his side. Trinity found herself unarmed.

  Trinity took a fighting stance as the two remaining men came for her. With the odds being somewhat even now, they stood a chance. If Joyce could hold the other man off, they might have a chance. When Trinity looked over and saw Joyce standing off to the side, she knew that she was in it alone. She vowed that if she made it out of the situation, Joyce was gonna get her ugly-ass face cut.

  One of the men tried to swing on Trinity. She dodged the blow and countered with a right cross. The punch staggered the man, but he kept coming. Trinity tried to run but the other man grabbed her by her blouse. She continued to fight and squirm until the fabric ripped, but she couldn’t get loose. One of the men held Trinity by the arms while the other one squared off and punched her in the face. Trinity would’ve collapsed to the ground had the man not been holding her up. As the darkness set in, the last thing Trinity saw was Joyce running the other way.

  Sally was coming out of the liquor store on 111th Street and Eighth Avenue clutching her bag tight. As she began the short walk back down to the projects, Joyce came flying past her. She was about to speak to the girl, but she was moving too fast. Sally scratched her head and wondered what had the girl so spooked. She cast a glance in the block and saw something wasn’t right. Two men were hoisting a young girl into the back of a van. Sally wasn’t the biggest woman in the world, but she could hold hers against most men when she was in her prime.

  She jogged down the block screaming for them to stop, but she was too late. The men had loaded their cargo and sped off. Sally looked around puzzled as a small cluster of people watched the whole thing and did nothing to help. A flicker of color caught her attention. She picked the bag up from the floor and recognized it immediately. It was the Coach handbag that Rio had bought Trinity last Christmas. Trinity's initials were engraved on the clamp.

  Everything started to click into place and Sally dropped the bag. Her mind raced in a million directions at once. She tried to calm herself, but fear for Trinity's life made it hard. Once Sally got her thoughts together she knew what she had to do. The police couldn’t help in a situation like this one. She had to get to Rio as soon as possible.

  Rio sat alone at his table inside the Crab Inn restaurant, twiddling his thumbs. He had been waiting for Trinity for almost two hours. It wasn’t like her to be this late. Even if she had walked instead of taking a cab, she should’ve still been there. Rio was beginning to worry. As if on cue, Rio's cell went off.

  “Hello?” Rio said into the phone.

  “Darius!” said a frantic Sally. “Thank God I’ve found you!”

  “Ma,” Rio said, getting nervous. “What's wrong?”

  “Baby, I need you to come home right away.”

  “Okay, ma. I’ll be there in an hour or so.”

  “No. I need you to come now.”

  “Ma, what's going on?”

  “Rio, would you please stop asking me what's wrong and do like I’m asking you!”

  “Okay, okay. As soon as Trinity gets here, I’ll come home.”

  “Damn it,” Sally broke down. “She's gone. They took her.”

  At that moment the whole world seemed to go in slow motion. Sally continued to speak
, but her words were incoherent to Rio. All he could think about was Trinity being gone. Without finishing his conversation with Sally, Rio hung up and called Shamel. “Yo, I need you and Cutty to meet me at my house, right now.”

  Rio hung up his cell and ran from the restaurant. He almost knocked three people over as he sprinted across 125th trying to catch a cab. His mind went wild replaying the different scenarios of what could’ve happened to Trinity. Sally had said that they took her, but who the hell was they? One thing was for sure, whoever had been foolish enough to lay their hands on Trinity was a dead man walking.

  By the time Cutty made it to 139th and St. Nicholas, Truck was already waiting for him. As Cutty approached, he knew something wasn’t right. The first clue was the fact that Truck was alone. Since the conflict between Truck and Rio had popped off, neither of them hardly went anywhere alone. Each man was paranoid about the other making a play for his life. The next clue was his body language. The whole time Cutty was walking in his direction, Truck kept looking around as if he was expecting something or someone. Cutty chalked it up as paranoia and went to greet Truck.

  “What's good, Truck?” Cutty asked.

  “Ain’t nothing,” Truck said, lighting a cigarette. “You dolo?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why you ain’t bring Mel or one of them niggaz?”

  “For what? I ain’t got nothing to fear from you. Do I?”

  “Nah,” Truck lied. “Nothing at all.” Part of him felt bad about what he was doing to Cutty. The youngster had always looked up to Truck as a sort of mentor. He was a good student and a valuable soldier. But fuck that. Truck was out to save his own ass. “So, you ready to do this?”

  “Yeah,” Cutty said. “Where you got em stashed at?”

  “In the ride. Cutty …never mind. Let's go.” Truck led Cutty and they both hopped in. After a brief look around, Truck pulled out the bag containing the police-supplied guns. “Here they go,” Truck said, handing him the bag. “All clean and untraceable.”

  “That's what the fuck I’m talking about,” Cutty said, examining one of the 9s. “Damn you been looking out for a nigga Truck.”

  “Ain’t about nothing.” Truck said, glancing into the rearview mirror.

  “Say, Truck. It might not count for much, but I’m sorry that them niggaz voted against you. Rio is my nigga to the grave, but I got love for you, too. I think y’all both could’ve — “ Cutty was cut off by the sounds of police sirens. He looked into the rearview and saw a fleet of squad cars approaching. “Rollers,” he gasped. “Burn it, Truck.” Truck sat completely still. “Didn’t you hear me?” When Truck wouldn’t look at Cutty, he knew that he had been betrayed.

  “Ain’t this about a bitch,” Cutty said in shock. “Snake ma fucka,” he howled, drawing his weapon. “Die, nigga!” Before Cutty could pull the trigger, he felt cold steel against his head.

  “Go ahead,” Stark whispered. “Gimmie a reason to smear your black ass.” Cutty started to try him, but he knew it would be a fool's move. He just raised his hands and allowed the detective to pull him from the car. Detective Stark handcuffed Cutty and threw him roughly to the ground. As he was dragged away by the NYPD his last thought was how he was going to pay Truck back.

  27

  Rio and Shamel sat in the middle of his living room while Sally retold the story of what she had seen. No matter how many times he heard the story, Rio still couldn’t believe it. Someone kidnapping Trinity didn’t make sense to him. She wasn’t connected to the streets and his promotion hadn’t leaked out to the public yet. He just couldn’t understand it.

  “Is there anything more that you can tell us, Ms. Sally?” Shamel asked.

  “I done told y’all all I know,” she responded. “I came out when they were putting her into the van. They were wearing masks so I don’t know who it was that took her.”

  “Ma fuckas.” Rio said, his voice all choked up. “They gonna die. You hear me, Mel? I’m gonna ride on all them niggaz.”

  “Don’t do anything stupid,” Sally warned, fearful of her boy ending up getting hurt. “You’re just talking crazy cause you’re upset.”

  “No I ain’t, Ma. I know just what I’m saying. The niggaz that touched my girl is gonna die. If I can’t get to them, then I’m gonna murder their families. If I can’t get to them, then I’ll murder their friends.”

  “Baby, ain’t no sense in hurting folks who ain’t got nothing to do with it.”

  “Fuck that!” Rio shouted. “What about Trinity? She ain’t have nothing to do with this madness out here.”

  “Just try and take it easy, dawg,” Shamel said, patting him on the back.

  “I can’t, Mel,” a teary-eyed Rio said. “This shit ain’t right. Trinity never hurt nobody.”

  “We’ll get her back, kid.”

  “What if we don’t? What if Trinity's lying somewhere dead as we speak?”

  “Don’t talk like that.”

  “I couldn’t live, Mel. If I can’t have Trinity, I don’t wanna live.”

  “It's gonna be a’ight. We’re gonna find her. Ms. Sally,” Shamel said, addressing her, “was Trinity alone?”

  “Actually, I saw that girl running up the block.”

  “What girl?” Rio asked, paying full attention.

  “What's her name, the one with all the weave?”

  “Joyce?” he said in disbelief.

  “That's her. I saw Joyce running from the scene.”

  “Come on, Mel,” Rio said, hopping up. “We got some shit to take care of. I’ll be back, Ma.”

  “Darius, maybe you should let the police handle it.”

  “That's a joke, right? Mama them pigs ain’t got no love for poor ghetto kids. If we don’t look out for our own then nobody else will.”

  Trinity was awakened by water splashing against her face. When she tried to focus on her surroundings, she realized that one of her eyes was swollen shut. Trinity's whole body ached from the beating that she had taken. She knew that she had hurt two of her kidnappers, but it still didn’t keep her ass from getting snatched. She was fucked and she knew it.

  “Glad to see that you’re still with us,” a familiar voice said. “I told my peoples not to touch you, but I heard that you were quite the scrapper.”

  Trinity knew the voice, but she couldn’t quite place it. As the vision in her good eye began to clear, she was shocked to see who her abductor was. “Baron?”

  “Oh, so you remember my name?” Baron said, stepping from behind the dusty iron desk. He had Trinity in an office of sorts; by the looks of it, no one had used it in a while.

  “Why did you bring me here?” she asked.

  “Nothing personal, ma. I got some unfinished business with ya man.”

  “What, you talking about that shit at the club?”

  “Oh, nah. This is way bigger than that, Trinity. You see, he's got something that I want.”

  “Baron, I told you that I wasn’t fucking wit you like that,” she said defiantly.

  “Bitch, don’t flatter yourself. This ain’t got nothing to do with you. This is about big business. Truck promised me all of Rio's territory if I take him out of the game.” He grinned.

  “Truck?” she asked in disbelief. “I know you ain’t take the word of that snake? Truck is gonna snake you the first chance he gets.”

  “Probably,” Baron said, touching her bruise. “That's why I’m baking a cake for his ass too. See, I got a secret. I got an uncle that works at One Police Plaza. Seems that Truck has been spilling his guts to the boys in blue for quite some time. Li’l J should be getting the package that I sent him real soon. Yep, they’re gonna welcome me with open arms when I expose that snitch ma fucka. So you see, Trinity, I’ll be getting Rio and Truck's turf.”

  “You’re fucking sick,” she spat.

  “Not sick, boo. Just a master schemer.”

  “Rio's gonna kill you.”

  “Please. Rio has no idea who took you. If anything, he's gonna think that Truck sna
tched you and kill that bastard. If the Capos don’t get him first. You tried to brush me off before, Trinity, but when I’m holding the cards you’ll be begging to suck me off. Just like your little friend.” Baron walked out of the room, laughing sinisterly. Trinity knew that things didn’t look good for her, but she was more worried about Rio. He was alone out there in the cold world.

  “Well, well.” Detective Stark smirked. “Looks like we got your black ass, huh, Cutty?”

  “Fuck you, pig!” Cutty shouted. “This shit don’t phase me. You think I ain’t never did a bid before?”

  “Oh, I know you have. But this is a little different. See, this is your third strike. They’re gonna put you away for a long time. Unless…”

  “Unless what?”

  “Unless you help us bring your friend, Rio, down.”

  Cutty began to giggle under his breath. Within a few minutes the giggling turned into a full-blown laughing fit. “You must be out of your fucking mind. You want me to snitch? I got a better idea.”

  “What's that?”

  “Go suck ya mother. Bitch nigga.”

  “Oh,” Stark said, grabbing him by the collar. “You think you’re funny? We’ll see how funny you are when they hit your ass with a basketball score.”

  “I don’t give a fuck. I’d do a thousand years in jail before I go out like that bitch nigga, Truck. I’m a soldier, you doughnut-eating, cracker ma fucka. I don’t break nigga. You hear me? You run and tell all these ma fuckas that Cutty don’t bend. Fuck ya deal and fuck you. I’m a fucking soldier!” Cutty spoke his piece and went back to laughing.

  “Shut up,” Stark barked. “You hear me? If you don’t quit that laughing, I’m gonna split ya fucking head open.” When Cutty didn’t stop laughing Stark kicked his chair out from under him, spilling Cutty onto the floor. “Shut up!” Cutty just laughed louder. “You shut up,” Stark said, kicking Cutty. “Stop laughing,” The more Stark hit him, the louder Cutty laughed. “Don’t laugh at me!” Stark screamed, pulling his gun.

  “What the fuck is going on in here?” Brown asked.

  “This mother fucker thinks he's hot shit,” Stark said, out of breath. “We’ll see how hot you are when you’re making wallets in Attica. Ship this fuck to the island.”