When I arrived at Search’s apartment, I knocked on his door a few times, but there wasn’t anyone answering. He lived alone. I didn’t see his green Durango parked on the street either. I was about to leave, but a neighbor of his opened up her door and said, “Hey, Sammy, you lookin’ fo’ Search, right?”
“Yeah, where is he?” I asked.
“I’m surprised he didn’t tell you, he left a few days ago, went down to ATL to do some show with some group of his and see some agent,” she told me.
I was dumbfounded and hurt. “What? Are you serious?” I asked, being dubious.
“Yeah, that’s what he said to me when he asked me to watch out for his place.”
“You know when he’ll be back?”
“I think next week,” she said.
“Thank you,” I said.
I just wanted to disappear. How could Search leave for Atlanta and not take me with him? He always knew that I wanted to travel, especially get out of Edenwald for a few days. I was so crushed that when I took the concrete stairway down to the lobby, I didn’t exit the stairway right away, but sat against the concrete and the tears leaked from my eyes again. I was pissed, angry, and bitter, and felt betrayed all in one.
Why would Search do me like this?
The hurt was eating away at me. I wanted to become violent. I wanted to really hurt somebody, because it seemed like someone was always hurting me. I dried my tears; I didn’t want anyone to see me crying. I walked out of Search’s building with my head up and a hard look.
Fuck Search, I cursed to myself.
I could do this without him. If he was still upset about that incident at the studio and in the South Bronx, then he could kiss my black ass. He always wanted to fuck me, but we were only friends, and if he felt some kind of way about Rico talking to me about business, because I always kept it real with him, then fuck it. I had gone to Search and told him what Rico had said to me that night he gave me a ride home. And I told Search that I wasn’t Mouse, I wasn’t interested in having any dealings with Rico, but if he took it the wrong way, then Search was an asshole too.
It was dark out. I didn’t want to go back to my apartment. I wanted to leave the projects, but once again, with no car and no funds, I was trapped like a stag. I wasn’t thinking straight. It felt like I was walking into darkness and couldn’t see. I wandered to the playground and sat on the bench alone. I lit a cigarette and tried not to think about Search being in ATL without me. But the harder I tried to forget about him, the more bitter I became. We were supposed to do this together and now I was by myself. And this muthafucka didn’t have the audacity to tell me anything.
Hours passed with me sitting in the dark, and on the bench thinking. I rhymed to myself as I sat by myself. The night was my audience, my pain a motivation. I freestyled while puffing on my fourth cigarette and tried to ease this grief. The solitude was somewhat a comfort, but not much comfort. I could still hear the drama going on in the projects, another wild spring where police were everywhere and I just wanted to be somewhere else for a long moment.
After four hours, smoking five cigarettes, spitting about fifteen rhymes to entertain myself and trying to clear my head, the drama in the projects seemed to be settling down. The sun was long gone, but the spring heat at the end of May remained. I felt like a statue sitting on that park bench. The streets seemed to be quiet and my tears were drying. I took a deep breath, flicked away the final cigarette in my hand and reluctantly started my walk back to my building. I crossed the street, gazing at Edenwald, the dungeon I felt trapped in, like a prisoner of war.
The moment I crossed the street, I heard rap music blaring from an oncoming car and noticed the 650i coupe drive by me. It made a sudden U-turn in the middle of the street, coming back my way. It was no mistake that it was Rico. He was the last person I wanted to see.
The car pulled to the curb and Rico hopped out with his wild smile. “Sammy,” he called out.
“What, Rico?” I shouted. “Now is not the time to fuck wit’ me.”
I wasn’t in the mood to deal with his silly antics tonight. But Rico still came my way, not caring what I just said to him.
“I just wanna holla at you about somethin’,” he said.
“About what?” I said with attitude.
He had one of his goons seated in the passenger seat toking on a blunt and looking at me like I was a sandwich to him. I screwed up my face and sucked my teeth at Rico’s clown-ass nigga.
“What’s up wit’ you? Why you out here in the dark, alone? You know somebody just got bodied on the other side, cops are everywhere in this bitch,” he said to me.
“I’m a big girl, Rico. You ain’t gotta worry about me.”
“Somebody gotta worry about you, Sammy,” he returned. “You holdin’ out okay from that incident the other day?” he asked with concern.
“I’m good. I don’t need you or Mouse holding my hand.”
“Sammy, I ain’t tryin’ to hold ya hand. I’m not in that kind of business. I know you that woman to hold ya own and handle yours. I always respected you fo’ that. You is one down-ass chica. And if you ain’t tryin’ to talk about it, then I understand. I’m not gonna press you about it like Mouse did. But let know, if you need a nigga, I got ya fuckin’ back, real talk. It can be about anything. And whoever was the puta that put hands on you, when the time comes, you just point and I’ll do the rest,” he proclaimed genuinely.
Rico’s eyes were fixated on me with this thoughtful passion. For once, he wasn’t saying any bullshit from his mouth. He was being a friend who was truly concerned about me. I came back with a simple, “Thank you, Rico.”
“I’ll do anything for you, Sammy. You and Mouse, I love y’all. And despite what happened between us back in the days, I’m not that man you think I am. I wanna see you and her get on top. You are so fuckin’ talented, Sammy. Don’t ever let this place bring you down. You hear me?” He sounded like the father I rarely knew.
“I hear you,” I replied.
“I shoulda seen the type of woman you was back in the days, but you know we both were so young and naïve,” he said.
“Yeah, we were and you shoulda.”
There was this nostalgic moment between us. We locked eyes. Our history started when I was thirteen and he was seventeen. Rico had me selling drugs for him. For months, maybe a year, I hustled crack, weed, and pills for him in the building stairway twenty-four-seven. I pushed pills and crack like I was the neighborhood ice cream man. I was on the verge of becoming a school dropout anyway. I rarely went to school, had thirteen absences in one month. I was too busy getting money and didn’t have any parents to punish me. My father was locked up and my mother was a drug addict. I was left on my own so many times and knew how to survive.
I had a crush on Rico when I was younger, I admit, but he always said I was too young and I was just business to him, meaning I was only good to him if I was making him some money. He was always fine, but he always ignored me when it came to anything sexual. But working for Rico always came with risks. I had gotten beaten up and robbed for $500 one day, and it was a loss I had to pay back on my own.
Rico, however, found out who had robbed me. Two towering thugs from a different project took it upon themselves to violently rob a fourteen-year-old girl. When Rico was done with them, one was almost brain dead and the other was blinded in one eye with two broken legs. I was shocked that he didn’t kill them, but he’d sent out a vicious message to his rivals.
The second incident happened when I was fifteen. I was shot at by a rival crew that was trying to muscle in on Rico’s territory. A drug war had ensued and that was one of the most violent and bloodiest summers Edenwald endured. Nine people were killed in a span of two months, from June to August. Rico came out to be the victor, holding down the fort, but it came with a heavy cost. He had lost two first cousins that summer. He was close to both of them.
The third incident with Rico was when I had gotten arrested. I had sold drugs to
an undercover cop and the jump out boys swarmed in on me like I was a terrorist. I was caught holding some serious weight, ten vials of crack, and some pills, along with a .380. I was taken into holding at the forty-seventh precinct and then down to central booking. But because I was a minor at the time, my bail was low and the judge hit me with two years’ probation, a hundred hours of community service, and youth counseling when I was going back and forth to court. Rico didn’t even pay my bail to get me out at the time, which was only $2,500. Mouse and my crew had helped me get out of jail. And I still held my own, didn’t snitch or cry.
Six months after my arrest, Rico caught an assault and attempted murder charge. He had shot this kid five times and pistol whipped the nigga’s bitch right after that. And this all happened because the nigga had the audacity to call Rico a bitch-ass nigga. Rico was fortunate to beat the serious charges against him, because the man and his bitch refused to press charges and cooperate with the police investigation, and didn’t want to testify in court. However, Rico still had to do some time for the gun possession. He wasn’t gone from the streets for too long, though.
He was back home a year and a half later, and got right back into hustling and controlling his block like he never had left. But by then, my feelings for him had changed. I was older, more mature, and he wasn’t interested in me like that, so why continue to bother?
But yes, Rico was a very serious, coldhearted, and violent dude. He wasn’t to be fucked with, especially when it came to his money. He and his crew were notorious in the Bronx: crack dealers and killers. Edenwald was his to run and control. He also was a mini celebrity in my hood. From the time he was twelve years old, his name had been in the papers.
Before he got into the street life, Rico used to play basketball. He was a point guard for many teams, including his junior high and high school team. He was nice on the court, skilled with a basketball like I never seen. At thirteen, he was playing better basketball than most men twice his age and dunking on rivals like he was Michael Jordan. They nicknamed him “The Puerto Rican Dream,” because he was the only Puerto Rican on the courts doing his thing.
He had his picture in the news papers several times, been on TV, and in high school he was one of the most prominent players who had the chance to attain a full athletic scholarship and leave the hood to play Division I basketball at any college. Two things fucked him up: he always carried that stigma of his father being the ruthless drug dealer who shot two cops back in the days, and his lure for the street life.
It didn’t take long for Rico to get into the drug game and make a hardcore name for himself in the streets like he had done on the basketball courts. This time, there weren’t any referees to blow whistles at his fouls.
Deep inside, I always liked Rico. I had a crush on him from the time I was thirteen. And the only reason I started selling drugs for him was to get close to him and have him notice me more. And then when he finally noticed me, I had a whole different attitude and I didn’t want anything to do with him anymore. He could have had this pussy back then, when I was really young and falling in love with him, but things done changed. He had put me through a lot, and we weren’t even dating each other.
I never told Mouse about my crush on Rico. We talked about everything and we never kept any secrets from each other, but for some reason, this was the only thing I kept from her, and I never knew why.
Rico looked at me like he didn’t want to leave me alone in the streets. He acted like I was brand new in these projects. His goon was waiting quietly in the car, still puffing on his blunt and nodding to the rap music playing.
“Just be careful out here, Sammy,” he said. “I know you a tough girl, but if somethin’ was to happen to you, I wouldn’t be able to live wit’ myself.
I didn’t respond to his statement.
“But you look really good tonight,” he added. “You were always able to take a nigga’s breath away.”
“Seriously?” I replied dryly. But truthfully, I wanted to smile after hearing his comment. But I remained deadpan. “Thanks, Rico.”
I was playing hardcore with Rico, but honestly I needed a friend right now, someone to talk to and help me out with my situation. I didn’t want Rico to walk away from me. It seemed like I yearned for his company, somewhat.
“I heard Search is in ATL. Why didn’t he take you wit’ him?” Rico asked.
“He had his reasons. Why do you care for?” I replied matter-of-factly.
“His reasons. Yeah, okay.”
“You tryin’ to tell me somethin’, Rico?”
“I ain’t tryin’ to start anything wit’ you, Sammy. It’s always love wit’ me. But I’ve been wanting to pull ya coat to sometin’ in a minute, but here’s not the time.”
“Then when?”
“Yo, I’m having somethin’ next weekend at Cream. Come through, chill and have a drink wit’ a nigga. We really need to talk about a few things, Sammy,” he said.
I looked reluctant.
“I’m serious. Just come through as a friend, a’ight?” Rico pushed.
I thought about it. I thought about what he was saying to me. Did Rico know something about Search that I didn’t know? I respected him for not telling any of my business in front of his friend. Rico was many things, and not always nice things, but the one thing about Rico, he was always real and was smart. He was the devil I did know.
“I’ll think about it,” I said.
“Just come through, Sammy. I don’t want to have to drag you by the hand to have a good time,” he joked slightly.
“You won’t.”
He started to walk back to his car. He stared at me before he climbed inside.
“Definitely holla at me, Sammy. I know we got a lot of things to talk about,” he said lively. “And holla at Mouse. I think she has some important news to tell you.”
He winked at me and got inside his car. I gazed at him for a moment, and for once in a long time, I didn’t feel so hostile toward him. We actually had a decent talk. He drove away, leaving me with something to think about. I hurriedly walked back to my building, cutting through the projects quickly because I didn’t want to get swept up in the shit storm after a homicide. I also had enemies of my own lurking about, and I wasn’t going to get caught slipping again.
I was still unaware of the person murdered. I really didn’t care. I just wanted to go back home and write some more. I wanted to release this raw storm onto the world, and show off my talents, because my fans were going to relate to me and understand my music. I couldn’t be anything but real and raw on my tracks. I wanted to be heard with a craze. I was always working hard and so motivated. Living in squabbles, poverty, and horror for so long, I felt I had nothing left but to be completely motivated and make it happen.
The apartment was quiet; my moms was probably in the streets somewhere getting high again. Her past and her pain was another focal point when it came to my music. If she couldn’t tell her story, then I would, along with mine. I knew I was a multiplatinum-selling artist ready to shock the world.
With it about to be dawn soon, I wanted to see the sun rise this morning. It was one of the few good things to look for in the projects. The sun rising was something that always came, even with rainy and cloudy days. The sun never disappointed, unlike so many things in life. I enjoyed the sun. The sun was a beautiful thing. It showed its presence everywhere, it didn’t discriminate. Whether you were rich or poor, bad or good, black or white, you always got the joy and benefit of seeing the sun and experiencing its radiant warmth. Too bad success and prosperity wasn’t the same way.
I sat by the window and continued to write again. As I wrote, for some strange reason, Rico came to my mind. I remembered him saying that Mouse had something important to tell me. I wondered what it was. Was is good or bad news? I had dissed her the other day, but I knew with Mouse all was forgiven. I also felt this slight shift involving us. A transition was happening between us that was making me feel uncomfortable. Something w
as changing, and I couldn’t pinpoint what.
Several days had passed since I spoken to Mouse and Rico had invited me to his party. I became reclusive, staying in my apartment for hours writing and gazing out the window. I shut everyone out for a moment, even my best friend. Phone calls went to voice mail, and when people came knocking at my door I didn’t answer it. Like Search did me, I disappeared for a moment, only walking to the store late at nights for food and snacks.
It was the weekend and a beautiful evening outside. But everything felt like hell to me. I was in a very foul mood. I had enemies everywhere, Vixen Chaos was in limbo, our music wasn’t taking off like I hoped, and I felt abandoned by everyone. And when I heard about Mouse’s father being killed, I should have called, said something to her, maybe gone to check on her, but I didn’t. She never cared about her father anyway, so I knew she didn’t need any condolences. She had Rico. I had nobody.
I continued to gaze out my window and noticed Rico pulling up on the block in his BMW. He looked handsome in a wife beater showing off his physique and jeans and Timberlands. He was alone, and perched from my window I watched Rico socialize with his cronies on the block. He was all smiles and Mouse wasn’t anywhere around. I missed my friend, but I was going through a moment when I needed to be alone.
I thought about Rico’s party tonight. I wasn’t going to go at first, but watching Rico on the block, taking care of his business and looking happy, I changed my mind suddenly. I hadn’t been anywhere in almost two weeks. I was becoming a hermit and it wasn’t a cool thing to become. I was always the live one, being out in the streets and in the clubs, making a name for myself. I wasn’t hiding from my troubles or anyone, but I just felt so overwhelmed by everything that I kind of shut down.
Fuck it; I was definitely going out tonight. I needed something to do, and I figured at Rico’s party I could have a heart-to-heart talk with Mouse and also hear what important news Rico had to share with me. I was ready to listen. I was ready to advance, somehow and someway.
La Familia Page 17
