Hood Rat

by K'wan

  * * *

  Jah walked ahead, twirling the Dutch between his fingers, while Eight and Spooky continued to bicker behind him. He was so engrossed in his own thoughts that their voices sounded like overlapping murmurs. Missing a beat, the Dutch slipped from Jah’s fingers and hit the ground. Just as he bent down to pick it up, something whistled over his head. He felt the shot more than heard it as he dove to the ground and came up holding his .40.

  A black minivan was coasting, with two shooters hanging out the window. Jah made out the stunned face of Slick, as well as that of Rel firing wildly from the rear window, but not hitting much of anything other than parked cars. Spooky was a trained soldier, so there was no need for Jah to shout a warning or even look in his direction. By the time Jah got off his first shot, Spooky had already let off three.

  The windshield exploded in a spray of glass, causing both Rel and Slick to duck. Spooky was trying to lay down everyone in the car while Jah shot for the tires, trying to stop the vehicle. Slick and his crew had underestimated the youngsters and found themselves in a gorilla-type firefight. A bullet grazed Groovy’s cheek, spooking him into stepping on the gas. Even as the car sped away, Jah and Spooky continued firing on it, riddling the minivan with holes. As the vehicle bent the corner, they could make out Ralph’s face staring out what was left of the back window.

  “Punk-ass niggaz!” Spooky screamed, waving his gun. “Yo, you seen how fast them niggaz got outta here, son?” When Spooky didn’t get a response, he turned around looking for his homeboy, fearing the worst.

  The front of Jah’s shirt and part of his face were spattered with blood. He was kneeling, breathing heavily as if he had been running. Beneath him, Crazy Eight lay on the ground twitching with two red dots in the middle of his shirt.

  “Damn fool went and got himself hit,” Jah whispered.

  “Man, we gotta go,” Spooky said. Seeing that Jah still hadn’t moved, he grabbed him by the shirt and lifted him to his feet. “Jah, that nigga is meat. We gotta get the fuck outta here before one-time shows up.”

  Jah nodded but continued staring at Eight. When the shooting had started, Eight had tried to run with his bike and took one in the gut. Even shot, he was still trying to pull that raggedy-ass ten-speed to safety. The second shot hit him in the chest, flipping the young man backward. He was twenty-two years old when the lights in his eyes were dimmed forever.

  * * *

  “Yeah, kid. That’s how you lay a nigga down!” Rel boasted.

  Groovy sucked his teeth. “You didn’t even hit Jah.”

  “Yeah, but I hit his man.” He hoisted his still-warm pistol. “You seen the way that boy folded?” He tapped Slick.

  Slick looked at Rel as if he’d woken him from a peaceful dream. “Shut up and put that hammer away.”

  “Groove, turn this joint around so I can get another crack at him,” Rel said anxiously.

  “What are you trying to do, get us knocked?” Slick asked. “Groovy, we’re dropping Ralph off and dumping this hot-ass car. Yo,” he turned to Ralph, “you straight?”

  “I’m cool,” Ralph said nervously. His stomach was flopping so much that he thought he was going to shit himself.

  “Ralph, you’re a part of this team and I protect my own.” Slick placed his arm around him. “Don’t worry about nothing. Stay the true cat that you are and leave Jah to us. We’re gonna handle this nigga,” Slick assured him.

  Ralph nodded dumbly like he was digging everything Slick was saying, but his thoughts were already on where he was going to relocate. They had tried to hit Jah and missed, which changed the arrangement drastically. Paul’s baby brother was a relentless dog. He wouldn’t stop coming until he had killed all of them, or fallen to a bullet himself. Ralph didn’t intend on sticking around to find out how it played out.

  * * *

  Jah and Spooky tore around the corner of 134th like they had the devil on their heels. The police hadn’t arrived on the scene yet, and there was actually no telling how long it would take them. Considering that the closest precinct was only a block and a half away, you’d think they’d have been on the scene at the first sound of shots. Unfortunately, this wasn’t the case with the NYPD. When it came to matters in the hood, they tended to take their time.

  Jah stopped unexpectedly at a corner payphone. Spooky shouted for him to come on, but he ignored him and punched in some numbers. “Nine-one-one emergency, how may I help you?” the voice came through.

  “Yeah, a white dude got shot coming out of the funeral home on 135th.” Without waiting for the operator’s response, Jah took off running up the block. He couldn’t give Eight his life back, but at least he could make sure he didn’t have to lie in the gutter any longer than he had to.

  26

  Marlene sat on the edge of her bed with the television tuned to the Cartoon Network. P.J. sat on a stool, between her legs, as she cornrowed his hair. The boy’s locks were so soft that she had to do some braids over as they kept coming out. Normally kids his age never sat still for anyone to do their hair, but she had made sure to supply him with a bucket of Gummy Bears to keep him occupied.

  Her cell ringing gave Marlene’s tired finger a break. “Hello?” she said, cradling the phone between her ear and shoulder. Her face twitched once, then resumed its cool demeanor before telling the caller she couldn’t talk.

  “Who was that?” Paul asked, entering the room. He was dressed in a white T-shirt and blue jeans.

  “Audrey. I wanna finish P.J.’s hair before I get caught up on the phone with her talking ass,” Marlene said, snapping a rubber band on the end of a braid.

  “Daddy, we going outside today?” P.J. asked, popping another Gummy Bear into his mouth.

  “Yeah, we can hit the streets in a hot one, smell me?” Paul rubbed the boy’s head.

  “Paul, I wish you wouldn’t do that,” Marlene told him.

  “Do what?” he asked.

  “Talk to P.J. like he was one of your boys. Do you want him to grow up using improper grammar?”

  “Marlene, the li’l nigga is only three. He ain’t gonna remember this shit when he’s older.”

  “Watch your mouth! Don’t you know that kids are like sponges at this age? It’s bad enough that his M-O-T-H-E-R is ignorant as all H-E-L-L, but he doesn’t have to end up that way.”

  Paul snatched P.J. off the stool and twirled him in the air. “You crazy? My little man is gonna be president or some shit like that!”

  “Not with a potty mouth,” Marlene said, tapping the plastic comb against her thigh. “Now, could you please put him down so I can finish doing his hair?”

  Paul placed the little boy back on the stool. “I got this, boo,” he said, and kissed Marlene on the forehead.

  “And while I’m thinking about it, where are you going? We’re supposed to be spending the day with P.J.”

  “Oh, I’m gonna run out for about an hour or so. Larry is coming to scoop me,” he said, as if it were no big deal.

  “Larry doesn’t even have a car.”

  Paul just shrugged. “I didn’t ask how he was getting here. Don’t worry, baby, I won’t be gone that long.”

  “Paul, you didn’t get here until this afternoon and now you’re leaving again?”

  “Baby,” he said, and planted a kiss on her neck, then her lips, “I’m just gonna go take care of this thing with Larry right quick and I’m coming back.”

  “If that fat friend of yours gets you into trouble, don’t call me,” she said to his back as he disappeared. Marlene had a few choice words that she would’ve slung his way, but luckily for Paul, she didn’t want to harm little P.J.’s ears.

  “What’s the matter, Mar?” the boy asked, looking up at her with caramel eyes.

  She forced a smile to her lips. “Nothing, baby.” Marlene’s attention was drawn to her cell as it rang for the second time. She peeked out the bedroom doorway to make sure Paul wasn’t around before picking it up. She was relieved to see Audrey’s name flashing on the
screen.

  “Yeah,” Marlene answered.

  “What’s going on, Mar?” Audrey asked.

  “Just braiding P.J.’s hair.”

  “Oh, y’all got him for the weekend?”

  “Yeah. You-know-who decided she wanted to play nice.”

  “Probably so she can get her freak on,” Audrey remarked.

  “More than likely, but who she’s sleeping with isn’t my concern. She can do what she wants as long as she doesn’t bring it around P.J.”

  “You never can tell with a bitch like that. Them kids are probably exposed to all kind of bullshit staying over there. You know, Paul is a pretty smart dude, and if he could manage to stop running the streets with stupid muthafuckas like Larry, he might actually make you a half-decent husband. I still can’t figure out for the life of me what made him fuck with Rhonda like that.”

  “Girl, you don’t know how many times I’ve asked him that question. Let him tell it, he wasn’t really fucking with her like that before he got locked up. Then he comes home and he’s a daddy.”

  “So Paul’s first time meeting P.J. was when he came home?” Audrey asked, obviously leading up to something.

  “Yeah, P.J. was almost one, I think.”

  “Umm-hmm.”

  “And what’s that supposed to mean?” Marlene asked.

  “Well, we all know how bitches like Rhonda get down, so I was just wondering if Paul ever found out for sure if he was P.J.’s father.”

  Marlene got very quiet. It was something she had often wondered about, but had never really pressed. She thought she could see parts of Paul in P.J., but P.J. looked so much like his mother that she couldn’t be sure. The thing was, P.J. had straight hair and fair skin, which neither of his parents had. Though it could have come from an earlier strain of one of their families, something told Marlene it hadn’t. Then when you threw in Rhonda’s rep as a jump-off it raised a few questions. She thought about bringing it to Paul’s attention, but didn’t want to rub a sore spot.

  “Audrey, whatever went on in Paul’s life before me doesn’t concern me,” Marlene said.

  “Well, it should,” Audrey replied. “Mar, what if you go through the motions of playing stepmother to little P.J. only to find out that he isn’t Paul’s?”

  “Audrey, that’s ridiculous. And even if through some fluke the K-I-D turned out not to be Paul’s, I’d love him the same.”

  “Marlene, you’re full of shit. You mean to tell me that you wouldn’t be the least bit bothered if you went through eighteen years of this bullshit with Rhonda for nothing?”

  Marlene shivered at the thought. “Well, what would you have me do, ask Paul to submit to a DNA test?” she asked sarcastically.

  “Hell no. Do it behind his back. All you gotta do is call Dana and ask her to look out.” Dana was a friend of Marlene’s who worked at the same DNA testing center that was featured on talk shows. A while back, Marlene had helped her baby’s father out of a jam, so the girl owed her a favor.

  “Audrey, I don’t even like what you’re suggesting. I’ll talk to you later.” She ended the call. Audrey had some nerve, asking Marlene to do something so underhanded. She was sure P.J. belonged to Paul … wasn’t she?

  Marlene shook her head to clear the foolishness from her mind. She would not follow up on Audrey’s bullshit. Besides, even if she did decided to call her girl Dana, how would she get the samples to be tested? Marlene brushed Audrey’s idea off and continued parting P.J.’s hair. As she plucked the loose strands of hair from the comb, an idea suddenly began to form in her head.

  * * *

  “Nigga, that was some bullshit,” Paul said as soon as he got in the car.

  “Fuck is you talking about, my dude?” Larry asked, pulling away from the curb.

  “Yo, how you gonna let me run up in shorty?”

  Larry gave him a wild look. “I let you? Paul, I ain’t got no control over what your dick does. You fucked Stacy, not me, at least not the first round.” Paul snickered.

  “I’m glad you think this shit is funny,” Larry said seriously. “P, I wish you could’ve seen yourself last night. You were a little stiff at first, but once we threw back a few shots you was doing you, kid. Stacy came at you like she was seasoned, and you handled that freak bitch. I’ll bet that pussy was crack!” Larry raised his hand to give Paul a pound, but Paul just looked at it.

  “I’m serious, man. You know I’m trying to keep it funky wit’ Marlene, so as my man you should’ve checked me when you saw me going there,” Paul told him.

  “Duke, I tried to slow you down, but you wasn’t trying to hear it. Then when you and shorty started popping E pills…”

  “E pills?” Paul asked in disbelief.

  “Yeah, we all took ’em. You had your tongue so far down Stacy’s throat that I thought you were gonna come up with a tonsil. The funny shit is, when we got to the house, y’all started getting it on right in front of me and Portia. On the real, when you was hitting that phat ass from the back, I almost lost my cool. Next thing you knew, me and shorty started popping and we all ended up in a pretzel on the floor. Dawg, I wish I had a video camera ’cause niggaz didn’t believe it when I told them!”

  Paul placed his head in his hands. “I don’t believe this shit. Son, if Marlene finds out…”

  “She ain’t gonna find out, so stop crying about the shit. Don’t nobody know but me and you.”

  “And the million other niggaz you told,” Paul said.

  “Man, those is hood niggaz. What are the fucking chances that one of them is gonna have a conversation with Marlene, let alone blow you up. You did ya thing dawg, enjoy the moment.”

  Though he couldn’t remember everything, there were occasional flashes of his night with Stacy. Her warm mouth and moist pussy would be etched in his brain for a long time. Paul felt like shit and Larry’s nonchalant attitude wasn’t helping. He really wanted to be good to Marlene, but it seemed like every time he turned around he was fucking it up. She had been a good chick and didn’t deserve to be shitted on. The damage couldn’t be undone, but he would make sure it didn’t happen again. Or so he hoped.

  “So where the hell are we going anyway?” Paul asked, noticing that Larry hadn’t gotten on the Queensborough Bridge.

  “Just be cool, my nigga. I wanna show you something.” Larry cut under the tracks of the 7 train and turned into Silver Cup Studios. The young black dude manning the security booth nodded and waved them into a parking spot. Paul looked around at the hangar-type structures and wondered what the hell Larry was about to get him into.

  “What up, Seth?” Larry got out and gave the security guard a pound. “This is the dude I was telling you about.” Larry nodded toward Paul, who was still in the car.

  “Cool, cool. Come on, we gotta do this quick,” Seth said, heading for the main building. Larry followed and motioned for Paul to do the same.

  They entered the building, getting second looks from some of the employees but no one bothered them. After walking the length of a winding hallway they found themselves standing in front of a fire door. Paul opened his mouth to say something, but Larry waved at him to be quiet. When Seth popped the door, he led them onto one of the small sets located within Silver Cup.

  “What do you think?” Larry asked Paul.

  “Think about what?” Paul asked, confused.

  Larry sucked his teeth. “The space, fool.”

  “I guess its okay. What do you plan on doing with it?”

  “I’m not doing anything with it, but you are. Seth is gonna fix it so that we can use this place for a night to put on a little exhibition. You’re finally gonna get a chance to showcase your work!” Larry said proudly.

  Paul’s eyes got as big as saucers. “Larry, are you bullshitting me?”

  “Man, I wouldn’t even play with you like that, knowing how you feel about your work. This is official tissue. The chick I fuck with downtown is tied in with some rich crackers. She gonna invite some of them down here to get
a first look at the works of Harlem’s latest sensation. I didn’t wanna say anything until I was sure we could pull it off.”

  “I don’t believe it!” Paul said, grabbing Larry in a bear hug. “If you was a chick, I’d kiss you on the mouth!”

  “You do and I’ll knock you the fuck out,” Larry joked, breaking loose. “You think you can have your shit ready in less than a week?”

  “Damn right I can. Yo, I’ll never be able to thank you enough.”

  “You wanna thank me, get this art shit popping and get your life in order, my dude.”

  Larry felt good about seeing his friend smile. Paul had been down a rough road and his luck was long overdue to change. Putting the whole thing together had been no easy task. The girl he’d slept with for the hookup was a mud duck, but she had some very powerful friends. The hardest part had been getting the bread together to make it happen. Larry worked and hustled on the side, but he still hadn’t been able to put up the money to rent the set and kick out all the bribes it would take to get everybody onboard at Silver Cup. Even though Seth had the security hookup, there were still people who would have to be taken care of. This is where Jah came in. When Larry came to him and revealed his idea, Jah was more than willing to do his part and then some. For the last few months he had been pulling capers and dropping the bread into Larry’s lap. If it hadn’t been for him, they’d still be trying to get it up. There was a lot about Jah that Larry didn’t like, but he had to give the little dude his props. When it came to looking out for family, he would go through hell or high water.

  * * *

  P.J. had finally gone to bed for the night, leaving Marlene some much-needed quality time. She was beat from chasing him around all day. P.J. was a good kid, but children that age required a lot of attention. They had played, watched movies, and baked cookies before the youngster finally dropped off to sleep. Marlene was going to make herself a cup of tea and take a nice hot bath. No sooner had she put the pot on the stove, than she heard her house phone ring.